Blood Bonding
by Alijandra's Editor
Summary: "For just tonight," Draco's deep voice whispered in her ear as he took the flask from her shaking hand. "We're going to pretend like we don't hate each other." - Warnings: Rated M for smut and language; EWE. DMxHG Dramione DRACO/HERMIONE - Some Ron/Hermione - Lemons & Limes
1. Blood Bonding

**A/N:** _Here is a Dramione fic for you! This story actually started out as a oneshot, however, you all seemed to like it, so we continued. A huge **THANK YOU **to all of our faithful readers! We love hearing from you, thanks for all of the reviews and PM's! You have overwhelmed us with your response to this fanfiction! :D Hope you'll enjoy and let us know what you think. ;D_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: Blood Bonding<span>**

* * *

><p>12 Grimmauld Place, The Order's Headquarters<p>

* * *

><p>"You can't be serious?" Hermione gasped, her tone was that of pure horror.<p>

"It's the only way." Kingsley's dark eyes confirmed regretfully.

Hermione fell back into her seat, stunned. The fight against You-Know-Who had taken a turn for the worst, and the remaining members of the Order, along with a few fleeting members of Voldemort's Armada, had taken refuge at Grimmauld Place. It was to be the last safe haven of the Wizarding World.

"Surely there must be another way." Mrs. Weasley persisted, turning to her husband for some other alternative, but Mr. Weasley merely shook his head.

"What I am suggesting is a form of…_Dark Magic_." Kingsley announced. "But sometimes you can only fight fire with fire."

"This is madness Kingsley! How could you even _suggest_…," Remus started, pointing his finger angrily at the calm individual in front of him, before shaking his head and throwing his hands in the air, clearly outraged at what the man was suggesting. Tonks, whose demeanor had stayed neutral on the topic, went to calm her fuming husband.

Hermione felt the youngest Weasley at her side, and she closed her eyes as the young girl placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"How does the ritual work?" Hermione asked, a bit uncertain on whether or not she really wanted to know.

"A Muggle born has always been the key factor in this ceremony." Kingsley explained. "A pureblood is also needed. It's an old form of wandless Magic, known as Blood-Bonding."

"And what makes it Dark Magic?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Blood must be spilt between the two parties involved, it is required that the blood be shed during the proceedings of intercourse; in order for a bond to be created." Kingsley answered.

Hermione's narrowed eyes shot up at him, but he shook his head and explained further.

"No one must die, but blood must be shared. Anytime blood is involved in a ritual it's considered an offering. That's what makes it Dark Magic. If abused, a life essence could be drained, and someone could die during the ritual, but if it's done properly, a greater power is gained. This opportunity could only aim to help us in our fight against Voldemort." Kingsley explained, staring each of them over, his eager eyes willing them to understand.

Hermione nodded, in acceptance of his words. If there was even the slightest chance that this would help Harry destroy Voldemort, then she couldn't say no.

"Who will it be then?" Hermione asked shakily, trying to force calm.

"Draco Malfoy." Kinglsey stated. There was no hesitation in his response.

Hermione's eyes darted to the blond headed figure seated in the corner of the room. His mother and father sat next to him, each of their faces had turned to stone at Mr. Shacklebolt's words.

"And how was this decided?" Mrs. Weasley piped, in Hermione's defense.

"You have a room full of Purebloods," Narcissa exclaimed disdainfully. "Why does it have to be my son?"

"Their wands attract each other's Magic." said Kingsley. "That part is essential. That is why it must be him."

Narcissa's face contorted with anger and disgust, but she eventually let it go. She had just as much to lose as all the rest of them, and knew that if this was the only way to bring them more power, then she couldn't argue with it.

Hermione felt her chest cave in. Draco hadn't said anything since his name was announced. He merely glanced at her, his expression unreadable, before slowly turning his attention to the dusty floor.

The Malfoy family had abandoned Voldemort, and was kept in hiding, as a last request of Dumbledore before he died. No one really trusted them, but the fact that they weren't in line with the Dark Lord made them quick allies. It was the only reason they were here.

"I'll give the two of you some time." Kingsley nodded toward them. "But you'll have to hurry, because we don't have much of it to spare."

As soon as Kingsley left the room, realization struck Hermione, and the burden of what was expected of her weighed heavily on her soul.

Mrs. Weasley, who had been stifling her cries for the majority of Kingsley's speech, ran over to embrace her.

"Oh, my poor dear," Mrs. Weasley cried, pulling Hermione close, rocking her against her bosom. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Hermione dear."

Hermione felt a hole in her chest from where her heart used to be. She should be crying too. After all, she was still a virgin, and had wanted to wait for sex until marriage. But that dream was gone. No, instead her dignity was being forfeited on behalf of some blood ritual. Not to mention, with a person who absolutely despised her. _'How comforting,'_ she thought bitterly, _'how quaint?'  
><em>  
>Hermione watched as the stunned looking Malfoy's rose from their seats. Their faces, especially those of Narcissa and Lucius, were of utter horror and grief stricken turmoil. The Malfoy name was about to be forever tainted. Draco on the other hand looked beside himself. He probably felt as she did, and was incapable of responding properly just yet.<p>

When the three Malfoy's passed her on the way out, it was Draco's mother who stopped to pay her respects.

"You had better clean yourself up, girl." Narcissa hissed bitterly, before hastily following her family out the door.

Hermione's insides burned at Narcissa's harsh words, but she honestly didn't expect anything less from the vial woman.

* * *

><p>When Hermione told Harry and Ron what had happened at the meeting, their reactions were precisely as she had anticipated. Harry was angry and appalled; but Ron, Ron was something else.<p>

"You can't let him touch you, Hermione." Ron said angrily.

"I don't have a choice." Hermione uttered. "It's the only way to strengthen our Magic."

Ron shook his head and continued to pace back and forth in front of her. Harry had left them to talk, so they were completely alone, in the room in which she shared with Ginny.

"This is insane. How could you agree to something like this?" Ron continued, fuming. "I thought your first time would have been with me. Never once did I imagine that pig-headed-ferret ever laying a single finger on you."

Hermione felt her heart momentarily mend at his words. "Did you really think my first time was going to be with you?" Hermione's voice broke.

"Of course," Ron stated factually, before trailing off incoherently. "I mean… not now… but when we got married of course."

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. She and Ron weren't dating, although she had hoped at some point they would; but, with the war going on, it was just too much to think about.

Hermione stood up and walked over to the pacing boy in the center of the room. Ron stopped and stared after her, his blue eyes filled with hurt.

"My first time doesn't have to be with him." Hermione's shaky voice suggested.

"Well we can't get married right now." Ron stated dumbly. "No one here's qualified for something like that."

Hermione laughed at his futile attempt to protect her honor.

"Ron." Hermione smiled pointedly. "I want you to be my first."

Ron blushed, a deep shade of violet streaking his already rosy cheeks. "Oh."

Hermione leaned in to kiss him, accidentally bumping noses in the process, which caused a smile to grow increasingly wider across her anxious lips.

His kisses were eager and sloppy, but she was just as inexperienced as he was, and that certainly didn't help the matter. They fumbled with their clothing, and Hermione, embarrassed, asked that they keep the lights off. Ron agreed and continued to grope his way up and down her body. His hands hurt at times, he often squeezed too hard in certain sensitive areas; and, she had to remind him more than once to be careful. When it came time for Ron to enter her, he missed her center more than once, but somehow still managed to gain momentary satisfaction from rubbing against her folds.

"Ron, slow down." Hermione warned him, feeling his sweaty body start to tense.

"I've almost got it." Ron groaned. When Ron managed to insert the head of his arousal inside of her, he lost all control, and she immediately felt a warm liquid spurt down onto her legs.

Hermione sighed as Ron's sweaty body crashed down on top of her.

"I'm sorry Hermione," he breathed against her ear. "I couldn't help it."

"It's okay…" she whispered, slightly disappointed.

"Next time it will be better, I promise." Ron assured her through short ragged breaths.

Hermione rolled her eyes. The whole purpose of this evening was for her to have a good experience before she handed herself over to Malfoy; and all the git on top of her could think about was a next time.

"You should probably get going." said Hermione, pushing him off of her with a gentle hand. "Ginny should be getting back any minute now."

"Right." said Ron, exhausted, gathering up his scattered clothes and heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled at her before exiting the room. The stupid prat didn't even kiss her goodbye.

* * *

><p>The next morning Hermione prepared herself for the inevitable. She was more nervous than she had been yesterday, but that was probably because it was getting closer to time. While she was washing up, she remembered the harsh words of Draco's mother, 'Make sure you're clean', the old wench had told her. Hermione felt herself scrubbing harder at her sensitive flesh, as she recalled the words. How much cleaner could she possibly get.<p>

The day went by entirely too fast, but consequently slowed down when she approached the door to the room Kinglsey had reserved for her and Draco. Draco wasn't there yet. She wondered if he had backed out, or if his parents had put their foot down, and refused to allow their son to mingle with a Muggle-born. A filthy Mudblood, in their eyes.

Hermione paced around the room, too afraid to sit; but, then again she was entirely too unstable to stand. She couldn't help but glance around the room and wonder how the night was going to play out. Was he going to try and toss her onto the bed and rush her body to get it over with, or would he want them on the couch instead, maybe in front of the fire place. The possibilities were endless in her mind, and whilst she prayed the night would end soon, she was too afraid to think of it even starting.

The door to the room creaked open, her nerves causing her to involuntarily jump at the sound. It was Draco. He was dressed in his normal black attire, while his blonde hair fell perfectly across his pale face in feathered strands.

He caught her eyes as soon as he entered, and she immediately looked away, her face flushed. The tall slender blonde went straight to the fireplace, lighting it with the tip of his wand.

_'What is he trying to do,_' Hermione thought suddenly, _'set the mood?' _Hermione licked her dry lips and opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. She watched as he stared into the fire place, his thoughts consumed by the flickering flame in front of him.

Hermione struggled with her words a bit longer. Malfoy must have sensed this, because he turned to face her, which put a quick stop to her over thinking brain.

She cowered under his piercing blue gaze. He appeared calmer than she expected, despite the turmoil playing across his face. The blonde boy's hand went to his pocket, and she watched as he pulled out a small silver flask. He took a quick swig of it before offering it over to her.

Hermione stared after his outstretched hand, and surprised even herself, by throwing caution to the wind and accepting the foreign substance he was offering. At the slightest touch, Draco's cool silky fingers burned the skin of her hand as he placed the silver flask in her trembling palm. She brought it to her nose. It was Fire Whisky. The strong scent burned her nostrils and she immediately pulled it away, taking a fresh breath.

"I'm gonna need a minute." Draco murmured. He turned away from her, disappearing into the restroom, it occurred to Hermione that he was just as nervous as she was. The thought of having to touch her must have absolutely revolted him.

Hermione's hands began to shake, causing the contents of the flask to splash out a bit. She tried steadying herself, but when that failed she took a small swig from the canteen in her hand. The cold liquid froze, and then set a fire to her throat. It burned like acid as she shook her head violently and squeezed her eyes shut. _'God, it burns.' _was all she could think at the moment.

Hermione didn't notice when Draco had returned, but when she did, she tried offering him back his flask. The blonde haired Slytherin declined. "It's yours if you need it for tonight." he replied awkwardly.

Hermione's hand dropped to her side. Her fingers tightened around the silver flask. She considered his offer for a moment, wondering whether or not there was enough whiskey left in it to get her through the night.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked her. His deep cold voice sounded odd and mistakenly calm for the torturous moment. Whatever the difference, it was a way too patient noise to be passing from his normally taunting lips. Hermione nodded her head, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"In order for this to work," Draco stated timidly. "I'm going to need to touch you." Hermione nodded her head again, this time spilling a few tears in the process.

"Can I touch you?" Draco asked, a bit uncertain. His manners surprised even her, but it made saying yes that much easier.

Draco took a small step toward her, and she immediately took a step back; shutting her eyes tightly.

"Granger," Draco growled in warning.

"I'm sorry..." she sputtered, bumping into the bed behind her. "I didn't mean to."

Draco tried approaching her again. This time she kept still, her heavy breathing uneven.

"For just tonight," Draco's deep voice whispered in her ear as he took the flask from her shaking hand. "We're going to pretend like we don't hate each other."

Hermione's tears fell faster and she held her breath, afraid of what was to happen next.

She could feel the heat his body radiated, even though their bodies weren't touching.

"Hermione..." When Hermione heard her name escape from the blonde boy's lips, a bit hesitant and broken, her eyes snapped open. She had never once heard him call her by her first name before.

"Let's play pretend," He breathed hotly against the side of her neck. "You don't hate me. In fact, somewhere in the back of your mind you've secretly lusted after me all these years. At school I taunted you, but only because I was secretly attracted to you...," Even though she knew Draco was making all this up, her heart skipped a beat at his fake confession. "...Though I could never find the guts to tell you,..." Draco's voice fell lower, until she swore his lips grazed her neck. "...Because of my pure blood...," Draco continued. "And your filthy...," but before Draco could finish Hermione pushed hard against the close proximity of the taller boy's chest. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't make him budge. "Shhh..." He cooed against her ear, pressing his lean body firmly into hers, forcing her still.

"Do you honestly think," Hermione stared up at him with narrowed eyes. "That pointing out the inferiority of my birth is going to help this along any easier." Draco stared down at her, amused and unabashed.

"We're pretending, Granger," Draco reminded playfully against the swell of her lips. "Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing. We both know how I really feel about you, I'm just trying to make this believable."

Hermione's blood boiled, but knew that now wasn't the time to start picking fights. Draco smiled as she continued to stare up at him defiantly.

Draco's hands went to Hermione's neck and he gently caressed her throat with his thumbs. "I've always wondered, despite myself, how soft your skin would feel against my fingertips." Hermione swallowed hard, she feared his caress would turn violent. "So delicate," He whispered against her temple.

Hermione felt him looking down at her again, and her cheeks began to burn.

"Tell me you've never thought about it." Draco's husky voice taunted.

"Thought about what?" Hermione swallowed painfully, her throat dry.

"About what it would be like if…you and I…were to ever…" Hermione felt Draco's hands caress their way down her sides, and she involuntarily shivered.

"I…I don't know what you mean?" Hermione's brain waves were starting to go fuzzy, she wondered if this was still just a part of his game.

Draco's face hovered over hers, his mouth a mere breath away from her taunt lips.

"I want to taste you, Granger." Hermione flushed at his provocative use of words. What kind of game was this anyway?

"Malfoy…?" Hermione questioned him timidly, her body caving into his kneading caress.

"_I've never been able to stomach the thought of that Weasel touching you._" Draco hissed against her lips. "I know you went to him last night." Hermione tried snapping out of his piercing blue gaze, but she couldn't manage to tear herself away.

"Did he do it all wrong?" Draco asked sympathetically. "Did he rush you? I bet his clumsy hands felt like a disturbing violation." Draco's calloused words were hypnotizing her. How did he know all of this?

"I want to make it better." Draco purred against her mouth, resting his ample lips against hers. Although he didn't kiss her, Hermione's brown eyes fluttered closed.

"All this time," she could feel his soft lips moving against hers as he spoke. "At the center of every insult, I've only ever wanted to make you mine."

Hermione would wonder later whether it was the Fire Whiskey or Draco's seductive fluke-confessions that drove her to do it, but as soon as Draco stopped talking, Hermione wound her hands in the scruff of his black robes and forced her tongue into his tactful mouth. She kissed him with such wild abandon that she didn't care who he was or why they were both there. She wanted him despite everything else that was forcing them together.

Draco allowed her tongue to invade his mouth, and she was pleasantly surprised at how cold and sweet he felt, and tasted. The blonde haired boy kissed her back, matching her passion with the delicate contours of his smooth flavored tongue.

The rough smack of their lips molded into each others' like soft clay, as their clever tongues battled. Hermione's hands were still clinging onto the fabric of his robe when Draco went to lift her from the floor, placing her gently on the mattress behind her. His strong hands parted her willing thighs, allowing his scored hips entrance. Hermione arched her back until their pelvises touched, moaning lightly as Draco's hands went to massage the lingering tension from her lower back and hips. The pleasure he sent flowing through her body caused her to bury her face in his shirt. She could feel the sculpted contours of his muscled chest beneath the thin fabric. Peeking up at him, she noticed the satisfaction it brought to his eyes by pleasing her in this way; whether it was a mock attempt for her benefit or not, she didn't really know, nor did she care, after all, pleasure was pleasure. Hermione's hands went to Draco's firm chest, where her impatient fingers fumbled with his dark robes. Draco pulled her closer to him, his encircled arms tight around her waist, as Hermione went to undo the buttons of his shirt. She worked as fast as her nimble fingers could mange.

Without breaking their kiss, Hermione slid the dark robe from off the Slytherin Prince's body, revealing the hard lean abs underneath.

Hermione accidentally bit Draco's bottom lip, and she momentarily hesitated before continuing. Draco, however, growled into her wet mouth. It was animalistic, and the seductive sound reverberated in her lungs. He was otherwise unfazed by the nibble, and urged her lips to continue with his own.

Hermione's stomach fluttered with guilty pleasure. She wanted to feel every hard inch of his body against hers.

"I want you on top of me." She hadn't meant for it to sound like an order, but was delighted when he obeyed.

Draco pushed her down onto the mattress. Pinning her delicate wrist about her head with his strong hands, as he carried out a series of kisses and tiny love bites of his own. He started at her lips, before trailing down her jaw and then to her neck, pausing momentarily at the hollow of her throat, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh, before sucking on it, causing her blood to boil. His cold steel tongue intensified every swift motion, and every move his hands and body made sent her farther over the edge. Slowly Draco continued down the path to her chest, grazing the cleavage of her breasts with his hot mouth. She writhed and wiggled under his heated form, and moaned when his teeth replaced his soft lips. She couldn't control the need for much longer. Still with his head at her chest, Draco chuckled smoothly, apparently amused with himself. He slowly let loose her wrists, sliding his hands down the sides of her long slender frame, then to her surprise, he swiftly scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the center of the bed.

The rest of their clothes disappeared rather fast, under the steady control of his hands. Draco's fingers went to her warm center, causing her small heaving chest to rise and fall rapidly, and Hermione was too consumed by him to even suggest turning off the lights.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." Draco whispered. It sounded like a promise. Hermione nodded her head, waiting for him to continue.

As soon as Draco's fingers plunged inside of her, she gasped, gripping the satin sheets in her warm hands.

"Shhh, it's okay." His deep voice cooed, kissing her flushed cheek.

Hermione licked her lips as his skillful fingers worked in and out of her.

When Draco's fingers eventually slid out for the last time, she saw that they were slick with her heat. She watched as he used the same hand that had been inside of her, to lubricate himself. Her body shivered with passionate delight.

Draco lowered himself onto her lithe frame, careful not to apply too much weight.

"I can lie if you want?" Draco teased huskily. His voice sounded far away.

Hermione stared up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

"If you think it will ease the pain." He groaned as he positioned his head at her slick entrance.

Hermione moaned in response.

"I love you." He said against her bruised lips as he drove his shaft deep inside of her. Hermione shut her eyes tight. She saw stars in the darkness. What did he just say?

Draco continued to push into her until the walls of her flower collapsed.

"I love you." He repeated against her lips once more, slowly changing his rhythm.

Hermione felt her body growing warmer with each thrust of his hips.

"_Say my name."_ Draco hissed into her ear.

"Malfoy…" Hermione breathed.

"That's not my name." He corrected her.

Hermione looked up to face him. Draco was staring down at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Draco." she whispered sensually.

As soon as his name left her lips, Draco's lips crashed down upon hers, muffling a moan that escaped his mouth. She felt his motions quicken. Her slick walls tightened around him, and she gripped his shoulders as she spread her legs wider for him.

She was losing more of herself with each deep stroke. When he lifted his pelvis to change the angle of his thrust, she felt his shaft teasing the swell of her nub, and she lost it.

Hermione's tiny body convulsed. She felt as if she was being thrown from a high cliff, but she was slowly being brought down on a cloud of ecstasy.

"Hermione," Draco moaned, his face contorted up in desire. She felt his iron shaft twitch inside of her as a warm liquid jetted into the depths of her core.

After a few moments of intoxicated pleasure, Draco eventually relaxed onto her panting body, his breathing labored.

"I have a confession." Draco stated unevenly, whispering in her ear. "I wasn't being entirely truthful."

Hermione's heart sunk, he didn't have to say it. "I know." She replied sourly. At his sudden movement she thought this was it, he was pulling away from her, ending their connection, ending his charade; but, was surprised to find that he was only sliding a bit further down her frame. He planted one lingering kiss on her chest precisely above where her heart resided, from there he sprinkled a few quick kisses on her breasts before resting his head in their valley.

"No," Draco shook his head against the swell of her breast. "I mean the part I was _supposed to be_ lying about."

Hermione looked down at him, her warm brown eyes confused.

"I wasn't pretending." His blue eyes softened for the first time.

Hermione didn't know whether to be scared or angry, so instead she laughed.

"Malfoy?" Hermione remembered suddenly, as her hand absent mindedly caressing his soft blonde locks.

"Hmmm." He sighed, his voice muffled.

"I think we forgot something…"

"What's that?" Draco asked sleepily, relaxing back onto her breast.

"Didn't Kingsley say something about blood needing to be spilt, and offered?"

"Yeah," Draco yawned. "He might have mentioned that to me before I came in here."

"And?" She questioned.

"Looks like we'll have to try again!" Draco shrugged; his heavy lidded eyes penetrating hers.

With the corners of his lips curling up into a wicked smirk as he kept his steel blue orbs in a steady gaze with hers, she gasped in semi-realization. He lightly pulled himself up next to her, encircling his arms around her curved frame, cradling her in a warm embrace, their legs left intertwined. Draco laid his head a meager breath away from hers, gently kissing her on the lips once more.

"Goodnight, Hermione Granger." He yawned, exhausted, as he tightened his grip on her and let sleep overtake his tired body.

Her mind still reeling with the realization of what had just happened, left her feeling dazed and confused, she wondered why he was still playing these mind games with her. Why was he still laying next to her? Why had he fallen asleep with her still in his arms?

In a state of pure shock and utter weariness, she replied softly, "Goodnight, Draco Malfoy." for, she too was over encumbered by sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Alijandra's Editor and Alijandra Love You All So Much! Hope you enjoyed! SO... IF YOU LIKED IT, LOVED IT, OR HATED IT... GO REVIEW! We want to hear what you have to say! THANKS TO ALL! :D_ **(-added 10/9/11- WOW, WE DEFINITELY RECEIVED SOME AMAZING REVIEWS FOR THIS CHAPTER! AS YOU CAN SEE NOW, THIS STORY IS NO LONGER A POSSIBLE-ONESHOT, BUT A FULL STORY! LOL! NOT SURE HOW LONG IT WILL TAKE TO COMPLETE, BUT THIS FIC WILL HAVE A BEGINNING AND ENDING! WE'LL SEE IT THROUGH TO THE END! THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS OR WILL BE REVIEWING! YOUR LOVELY WORDS WARM OUR HEARTS! -added 10/9/11-)**


	2. Waking Up In Enemy Arms

**A/N:** WE HOPE YOU ENJOY! Review! :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 2: Waking Up In Enemy Arms<span>**

The next morning Hermione felt as expected. The lingering immorality of her actions felt like creepy crawlies invading the surface of her sullied skin, a feeling she assumed most people had after a quick and shameless one nightstand.

She was uncomfortable, regretful, but more than any of that, very, very confused. She had slept quite soundlessly in Draco's arms for the majority of the night before waking up and turning away from him in startling realization.

Draco Malfoy had been her constant rival for the better part of 6 years, and now, out of nowhere, she was being cuddled in his arms like some secret treasure. She expected last night to be painful, nauseating, overwhelming; but no. One fake confession and a few pretty words later, and suddenly she was putty in his arms.

Hermione's face burned with anger. She was disgusted with herself for letting him have her so easily. Really, she didn't even try to fight it. She should have flinched at his touch, or at least hesitated just once, but no, as soon as his skilled hands worked themselves around her body, the fight in her had ended. And if that wasn't even the worst part, then her enthusiastically jumping him was. She felt like she completely took advantage of the situation, and just pounced on him, her worst enemy, Draco Malfoy.

As Hermione lay next to the blonde figure sprawled out beside her, she cursed the sheets they shared. She stole a quick glance from over her shoulder and saw that his milky broad chest was still bare, and she involuntarily shuddered. He had clearly made no effort to make himself decent after last night, but then again, neither had she.

He was like a perfectly sculpted dragon, only sleeping in his human form. His milky broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took; despite herself, she couldn't help but study the contours of his face and mouth as he slept beside her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't deny the immense pleasure last night had brought her - that _He _had brought to her, and to her initial surprise he had been sweet, if not gentle. He had known she would be a virgin; after all, she suspected he didn't have that much faith in Ron. What she didn't understand though, was that Draco hated her in the worst possible sense; so, what could have possessed him to act the way he did last night? Did he find it amusing to mock her, or was he secretly in to role-playing. It was as if he had guessed exactly how she wanted her first time to play out. He knew just what to say, just what to do, but more than any of that, he knew that she wanted to be treated as if she were loved. Not only did he exceed her expectations in that department, but he had told her that he loved her. It was cruel, alarming, yet the way he said it was beautiful, even for a lie. Then, to top it all off, he had told her that he actually wasn't lying about any of it. Now that part was just cruel.

Hermione felt the bed beside her shift and she held her breath as a warm arm encircled itself around her waist, pulling her close. Hermione's brown eyes grew wide. They were both still naked, and she could feel the entirety of Draco's body pressed against her under the sheets. He was warm, inviting, but she refused to allow her brain to go in that direction_. 'Remember what Ron told you about fraternizing with the enemy,' _Hermione thought soundly.

The arm around her squeezed tighter. _'Does he even know what he's doing?' _Hermione thought worriedly. She shuddered when she felt soft lips on the incline of her neck. _'__Is he even awake?'_

_"_Morning." The boy behind her breathed huskily. She stilled.

Draco's fingertips began tracing her abdomen in slow tickling circles. She should leave. Why wasn't she getting up?

One of Draco's strong legs parted her thighs from behind and she couldn't help but let a tiny gasp escape from her lips.

"I should go." Hermione said rather quickly, blushing every shade of scarlet.

"But we haven't finished yet." Draco whispered against the lobe of her ear, tickling it with his warm breath.

Hermione went to move away from him, but Draco pulled her down flat, climbing on top of her.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked shakily, feeling slightly embarrassed for the first time at her exposed flesh.

"We forgot something last night." Draco reminded her, pressing down onto her body. His weight felt like a welcomed burden.

Draco chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot the real reason we're here?" Draco asked, his attention turning to her breasts.

"Oh, right." Hermione remembered suddenly, shaking her head. The Blood Offering.

"Does it still hurt?" Draco asked, peering up at her with the most beautiful blue speckled eyes she had ever seen, slits of gray tendrils peeking out of the innermost depths.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that the pain between her legs hadn't fully registered, but as soon as he asked the throbbing commenced.

"A bit." she whispered. _'Why does he sound like he cares?' _She wondered inwardly.

Hermione watched as Draco's Beautiful white feathered head fell to one of her perky breast, where he delicately planting a light kiss. His soft lips tickled her flesh.

"We can still make it work." He replied, while his skillful fingers worked itself around one of her erect nipples. Hermione bucked up against him. Were they really going to try this again?

Eventually, Draco's head disappeared under the covers, and her face immediately grew red.

"Draco?" Hermione asked timidly, unsure of what he was about to do next.

Hermione watched as the sheets in front of her rose, and jumped when she felt Draco's strong hands pry her tender thighs apart.

"Draco?" She called out again, this time out of surprise. Draco didn't respond with words. Instead she felt his hot breath just above her heat, tickling her sensitive flesh. He was keeping her legs apart with the pressure of his hands, and when she felt his tongue flick against the innermost part of her folds she lost it, bucking wildly against him.

Draco forced her legs still, applying more pressure with his forearms and elbows. Hermione couldn't think. She forgot important words like irrational, dangerous, and stupid. His feathered head between her soft legs was all she could think about. Draco's tongue darted inside of her, teasing her, tasting her. The pleasure he was gifting to her was unbearable, and at times it was difficult for Draco to keep her shaking body still.

Lost to her passions, Hermione's fingers wound themselves in the boy's silk blonde hair, as she pulled and gripped his head closer to her slick warmth. She was hungry for him. His tongue and lips were like skillful artisans in her mind. They were like gift givers of pleasure, gate keepers of Euphoria. None of these explanations seemed to do him justice, she thought sadly. Draco began to suck at the swollen nub just above her entrance, and her pelvis immediately arched up to meet him, her slick folds grinding against his skillful tongue. By the sounds of his muffled, uneven breaths, she was positive that she was suffocating him, but he merely encouraged her selfish desires by continuing. Draco hiked Hermione's legs above his shoulders, sticking his tongue deep inside of her and darting it in and out like a snakes tongue. Hermione felt her stomach tighten, the pressure inside of her gut building.

She could tell Draco was anticipating her release, and when her moans became more fervent, one of his hands went to the growing shaft between his legs. He massaged it to full length, working his skillful hand across it diligently. Then he rose from under the covers and climbed up in the bed next her. Hermione writhed in the bed beside him, missing his skillful tongue already. Draco merely smiled and continued to massage himself as he leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth. Draco moaned against her lips as she felt the hand at her side working faster. Draco's other hand went to her swollen nub, gently massaging it between his fingers. Hermione whimpered, reeling from the passion all over again.

"Bite me." Draco's husky voice commanded.

Hermione's warm brown eyes shot to his icy blue ones.

He nipped playfully at her jaw line, and as if it were the only encouragement she needed she hesitantly obeyed, her wet lips traveling to his angled neck. Draco climbed back on top of her, his thumb still working at her slick pink nub.

Draco then replaced the hand on his shaft with Hermione's trembling fingers. She squeezed her hand lightly around him, mimicking the movements he had made.

Losing focus for a moment, as a warm pearly liquid seeped from the tip of his arousal, she pulled the shaft in her hands to her wet folds. Draco stopped his movements, watching her with curious eyes. Hermione placed the head of his arousal alongside her cherry nub and rubbed it there, moaning softly at how well the two bases worked against each other. Draco's hands, no longer needed, went to Hermione's tousled hair, winding his fingers in her brown locks. Hermione rocked her pelvis against his shaft, circling the head of it against her folds. She felt his body tense above her, and she knew then what she had to do.

Hermione's lips traveled to Draco's neck. She placed a small kiss on his soft flesh, marking her spot. Draco's breathing hitched, as his iron abs flexed. He was almost there.

Hermione's teeth sunk into Draco's skin, a copper taste invaded her mouth, and she immediately felt a spurt of hot liquid splash across her tender nub. The blonde boy growled, tensing and flexing his hard body above her.

His shaft, still twitching, sent Hermione over the edge, and she immediately felt Draco bite down on her lower neck. It didn't hurt as she had anticipated, or perhaps the rush of her orgasm sated the pain she would have normally felt.

Hermione finished sucking on Draco's pierced neck and stared up at him, dazed. His blue eyes were glazed over as she noticed a droplet of blood on his bottom lip. She smeared it with her finger, painting his flushed mouth red. Draco smiled against her fingertips, before collapsing back down on top of her.

As soon as they had licked each other's wounds dry, they fell into another intoxicated sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The next chapter is good! So, if you want it, you gotta work for it! Lol! Leave a review and tell us what you did and didn't like! (Hopefully there isn't too much on the latter! :D) Thank you all!


	3. Draco's Memories

**Authors' Notes: **Sorry it's taken so long for this chapter to be posted. Hopefully the length of this one will make up for the lost time. The next one should be posted quicker. Thanks and hope you all enjoy!

**PS: **Be on the lookout for your favorite line/sentence in this chapter and make sure to add it into your review. We're curious to see if our favorite line is yours as well! :)

**disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 3: Draco's Memories<span>**

Hermione woke a few hours later with a blistering headache. Her head was throbbing… pounding. No…exploding! Untangling herself from Draco's arms she stumbled out of the bed and onto the floor. The dusty beams creaked in protest at her unexpected weight.

Hermione saw the darkened room around her head start to spin. There were stars, and flashes of spiraling light that streaked through her field of vision. Her hand reached out to swipe the shimmering specks that swirled around her head, but it was a futile attempt. She felt as if she were falling; and yet, she was already laying flat across the cold wooden floor. Amidst the chaos she didn't hear it when a shocked, worried voice called out her name, or feel it when strong arms lifted her up, wrapping her in a warm thick blanket.

The next thing Hermione remembered was waking up in an unfamiliar bed, located in a completely different room of the house. There was a figure cloaked in black mixing and measuring two colorful ampoules' together. She watched blurrily as the dark figure slowly gathered the contents of both test tubes into one large vial. Once satisfied with his work, he continued by pouring the mixture into a slightly bronzed goblet. Hermione rubbed her eyes, hoping to clear her vision. The clocked individual was walking toward her now. She could make out sleek, oily, black hair, and a slight crooked, upturned nose. It was Professor Snape, Hermione realized suddenly, before he even managed to step into the light.

"What's going on?" Hermione's voice cracked groggily as she tried lifting herself from the springy bed. The metal coils groaned along with the transfer of her weight.

In surveying her own body, she made a mental note of how thirsty she was. She was beyond parched. Every attempt at swallowing caused her throat to unnaturally chafe. She felt as if she hadn't had anything to drink in ages.

"It appears you and Mr. Malfoy's festivities paid off." Her former 'Potions Master', and, for a short time, 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' professor muttered as he swept across the dim lit room.

If Hermione had, had enough blood circulating in her veins, she would have blushed.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione asked, not recognizing the room she was in.

"Downstairs. And I suggest you refrain from shifting too much, Miss Granger." Snape warned her narrowly. "When Mr. Malfoy brought you to me you were unclothed."

Hermione let a tiny gasp escape her lungs as she peeked under the thick blankets. Sure enough, she was naked.

"Mrs. Weasley went to fetch you some clothes." Snape assured her, sensing her distress. "She should be back shortly."

Hermione pulled the sheets close to her body. She was lying naked in bed with one of her old school teachers in the room; how appropriate, she cringed. In comparison, it didn't sound nearly as bad as being thrown into bed with someone that was once considered her archenemy; pleasant or not, it was all happening _to her._

Snape finished stirring the tiny goblet in his hand before bringing it over to her.

"Here, drink this." Snape ordered, blowing the steam away before placing it carefully in her hands. "And be careful, it's still hot."

Hermione nodded her head. She stared into the bronze goblet. The solution inside was black and as thick as tar. "What is this?" she asked, revolted by the mere sight of it.

"It doesn't matter. It will help ease the pain." Snape assured her.

Hermione drank it as fast as she could. It was horrendous, but she chugged it like it was her last meal on earth, determined to get it down.

"My head is still killing me." Hermione grimaced, massaging her temple gently with the tips of her fingers.

"That's what this is for." The greasy haired Potions Master dropped a green looking herb into the palm of her free hand.

"Well, then what was this for?" Hermione asked, pushing the goblet back toward him in disgust. "Breakfast?"

"For other… _types, _of pain." Snape cleared his throat pointedly. This time Hermione did blush.

After drinking the tonic and forcing down the green herb her pain dulled in no time.

"Professor," Hermione called out as Snape reached for the door. "What happened to me?"

"Kingsley did mention that you would be meddling with Dark Magic, Miss Granger." Snape reminded her without turning, his long pale fingers encircled around the chipped door knob. "Consider this a warning."

"Thank you…Professor." was all Hermione could manage to say as she settled back down onto the stale sheets.

The door closed and Snape was gone, leaving her to her thoughts. The ritual didn't go exactly as planned. Kingsley did say that blood had to be shed during the act of intercourse. It didn't exactly happen that way, although Snape did mention that their 'festivities' had paid off. _'Just how?'_ She wondered to herself, in an inaudible whisper.

* * *

><p>It was Ginny who eventually brought Hermione her clothes, not Mrs. Weasley as Snape had informed. She was grateful she didn't have to face the poor woman just yet. She was embarrassed enough as it was without having to face her pity party so soon.<p>

It was hard for Hermione to walk on her own after all the numbing tonics Snape had forced down her throat, so Ginny had to practically carry her back down to their room.

When they arrived, Ginny helped seat Hermione gently on one of the beds.

"It worked." The red headed girl smirked as she gracefully padded over to Hermione's favorite reading chair. The younger girl coiled her legs beneath herself and clasped her hands firmly in her lap. Hermione could tell that it was all the younger girl could do in attempts to control her need to let loose the inevitable inquisition, the waterfall of questions that were just barely sealed behind her anxious lips. All the while a pained, anxious, expression decorated her soft features. No doubt from all the anticipation she'd built up after the agonizingly long walk of silence. It was plain to see that the inner struggle the youngest Weasley was suffering from was beginning to threaten her self-control; she nearly lost the battle.

"That's great." Hermione excited tiredly, as if that was all she was able to say on the matter, although she was relieved that her and the Slytherin boy's acts weren't in vain.

Ginny nodded her head vigorously. "Everyone's wand went crazy early this morning. The Magic flowed through the wood, and mine literally pulsated against my fingertips as if there were a caged creature locked inside, fighting to break free. The power was so intense that it was almost tangible in the air around us. Merlin's beard, it was bloody brilliant!" The young girl explained with an animated expression. "So as soon everyone ate breakfast and gathered for a morning meeting they set off on another raid. They managed to rescue a few more families that were trying to flee their homes in attempt to seek refuge from Voldemort, although, I'm not sure who just yet."

"Wow." Hermione breathed, settling further onto the bed, feeling somewhat accomplished. "That's great. That's… that's incredible."

From Hermione's peripheral vision she watched the freckled face girl before her adopt a mischievous grin. There was a look of eagerness in the young girl's expression.

"What?" Hermione asked, daring a quick glance across the room.

"Well?" Ginny asked pointedly, as if she had been waiting for Hermione to tell her something.

Hermione blushed.

"Ginny!" Hermione scolded, realizing exactly what _it_ was that her best friend wanted to hear.

"Oh, come off it!" Ginny pounced onto the bed beside her, practically bouncing with excitement. A look in her eye stated that she was ready and waiting for all the juicy details. "You can't stay quiet forever. Tell me! How was it?"

"Ginny, it wasn't supposed to be romantic!" Hermione reminded her, appalled.

"You can't play coy with me, Hermione Granger. Now spill it. I want all the embarrassing details, and no holding back." The brazen Ginny Weasley demanded.

"You're ridiculous." Hermione laughed, shaking her head at the overly enthusiastic girl sitting next to her.

"Despite who Draco Malfoy may be, he has always been the Sexiest Wizard of your year. I don't count Harry, of course, because he's mine already." Ginny stated rather briskly. "But still, did you ever imagine in a million years something like this would happen? I mean– he _hates_ Muggle-borns! You two despise each other!"

"Thanks for the reminder." Hermione smiled haughtily.

Hermione's brain began to race again. She tried to conceal her emotions beneath a fan of long dark lashes, but much to her embarrassment, she ended up telling Ginny everything she wanted to know, save for the part about Draco professing his fallacious love for her of course. She was surprised to find that even the oversexed teen sitting next to her was still naïve to some things.

When Hermione was done answering the torrent of embarrassing questions Ginny asked her, she halfheartedly wondered where her green snake had gone.

"Where is Malfoy, anyway?" Hermione tried sounding nonchalant about her inquiry as best she could.

Ginny giggled. "Wow, Hermione. You'd think after last night the two of you would be on a first name basis!" the younger girl teased.

"Very funny, Ginny." Hermione shook her head, trying to rid her cheeks of the obvious blush her embarrassment was causing.

"He left with the others." Ginny replied, smoothing over her antics.

"Already?" Hermione asked, shocked that he was up and moving so soon. "Wasn't he affected by what happened?"

"He looked slightly drained and a bit shaken, but… other than he that appeared fine." Ginny shrugged.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. It occurred to her, that perhaps only Muggle-Borns were affected by the ritual; hence the sacrifice, _her_ Muggle blood.

* * *

><p>Later that night Hermione had to brave an appearance at the dinner table.<p>

To her horror everyone was in attendance, even those who normally ate in solitude. The day's raid had gone considerably well. So, everyone was in high spirits, although no one acknowledged why.

Mrs. Weasley outdid herself. It looked as though she had prepared half the kitchen. Even the Malfoy's weren't opposed to her cooking this night.

Hermione didn't sit far from Draco and his family. Lucious and his wife ignored her presence, perhaps a bit more grudgingly than normal. Draco, however, stole a few sideward's glances at her as he ate his meal.

Ron, who had been glued to Hermione's hip since he got back didn't let her out of his sight and often shot daggers at Draco with a look of warning in his eyes.

To Hermione's utter annoyance, Ron talked to Harry the majority of the night with his mouth full of food. Bits of turkey fell out of his mouth as he chewed, and Hermione inwardly gagged at his gross display of table manners. Staring over at the youngest Malfoy seated in the far off corner of the room, Hermione noticed how eloquent Draco was as he sat and ate. He was talking in hushed whispers to Snape, however, he chewed his food completely before opening his mouth to speak, and he wasn't gorging himself either. He paced himself, taking small mindful bites. Hermione wondered if money had been the reason for his good manners. Nevertheless it was a stark contrast in comparison to her untamed friend's table manners. _'He could teach Ron a thing or two.'_ She absently mindedly thought, quickly biting her bottom lip, halting her thoughts from going any further when she realized such a statement could be misconstrued into more than one meaning. With a flush on her cheeks she averted her eyes back to her plate. For the rest of the meal she sat quietly, pushing the food around with her fork as she focused pointedly on things that had nothing do with Draco Malfoy.

When everyone else was done eating, Hermione waited for Harry and Ron to finish; only they kept going back for second and third helpings. Tired of wondering when they'd be finished, she decided on going upstairs to join Ginny without them.

On the way to her room she ran into Kingsley, and she immediately tried to turn away in embarrassment, but Kingsley stopped her.

"The Order thanks you for your sacrifice, Miss Granger." Kingsley stated, bowing his head. All Hermione could do was nod in response. What else could she say? _You're welcome._

"It appears that…there is still more power to be gained." said Kingsley. "Your wands have a very strong pull on one another. It would be considered wasteful to not let them reach their full potential."

"But… I thought you said it was dangerous." Said Hermione, confused by his statement.

"Anything has the potential to be dangerous if you're not careful." Kingsley declared.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable…" Hermione began before trailing off into her thoughts.

Kingsley nodded his head. "I understand. The decision is not mine. I just wanted to make you aware of the good that could stem from this. At this point, we need all the help we can get."

Hermione nodded her head. "Did you talk to Drac- I mean Malfoy? It's not just my decision you know." she finished with a slight blush.

"He's in the library with Miss Parkinson." said Kingsley, eyeing the door down the hall. "I was going to talk with him when he was alone, but I don't see the harm in you talking to him in my stead."

"Parkinson?" Hermione question; remembering that name with a bitter taste in her mouth. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"That's right." Kingsley replied. "We picked her and her family up just outside of Hogsmeade. They had abandoned Voldemort and needed a safer place to hide, and right now, nowhere is safer than Grimmauld place."

The last thing Hermione remembered about Pansy, besides her being a foul wench, was that she had been dating Malfoy. She wondered if that was still the case, and if so, how would the pug faced girl react to her Slytherin Prince sharing a bed with a Muggle-born? Her being here definitely complicated an already complicated matter.

On a touchier note involving Pansy, Draco had just confessed his love for _Hermione_ the prior night. She still thought he was off his rocker, but still, that was a very dangerous game to play. Out of all the ways to try and torment her, this was definitely the most original. Pretend to love the person you hate. Take that for reverse psychology.

When Kingsley left her alone in the middle of the hallway with nothing but a head full of confusion, and a key meant for a private bedroom; she tried thinking about all the reasons why this was such a bad idea. The cons outweighed the pros by a rock and a pebble, however, that didn't stop her from marching toward the door to the library with determination in her brown speckled eyes.

Taking a breath, Hermione tried bracing herself. She half expected the normal more vial Draco when she opened the door, but part of her was still curious as to what he had said.

Hermione's unsteady hand reached out for the old rickety knob. Turning it with a slight push, she caught a small glimpse of Pansy, her hand was in Draco's lap, and as soon as the door creaked, Draco went to grab it, pulling in away.

The door slowly swung open, revealing a hidden Hermione. Draco's blue eyes widened a little. He probably wasn't expecting to see her again, so soon.

Pansy, who was seated next to him, narrowed her dark eyes, and she swore she heard her hiss as she approached their table.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Hermione asked, perhaps a bit too bossy and condescending.

"No, go ahead." Draco gestured for her to take a seat.

Hermione sat across from them, and wondered how she was suppose to bring anything up, when the pug seated across the table was shooting her death rays.

It was an uncomfortable couple of minutes before Hermione came up with a way to communicate with Malfoy. She didn't know how she possessed the courage to do it, maybe it was the Gryffindor lioness inside of her, but soon she slipped one small foot out of her sandal, and grazed the side of Draco's inner thigh. She felt him tense until she trailed all the way up to his groin. Draco shifted a little in his chair before turning to the girl seated next to him, slamming his fist down on the table. Hermione quickly withdrew her foot.

"Pansy!" he growled in warning.

Pansy looked over at him, confused.

"What?" She asked dumbly, twirling her dark locks in her pale fingers.

Draco's face searched Pansy's before turning in realization to Hermione.

Hermione blushed, and averted her eyes away from the table.

"Pansy," Draco stated again, only a bit lower this time and without looking at her. His eyes were too focused on the blushing brunette in front of him.

"Yes love?" She asked, never once taking her armored eyes off of Hermione.

"Could you leave us." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

Pansy's eyes snapped over to him, the hurt in them evident.

She didn't argue or question him, but that didn't stop her from stomping away and slamming the library door shut in a not so quiet departure.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Draco apologized for his outburst at Pansy on her account. "But I've been countering her advances all day. It's getting quite tiring."

"Oh." Hermione stated, feeling a slight sting in her chest. What was that feeling and why did it bother her? She shook it from her body before it crept into her heart. "We'll I'm sorry for interrupting you two. I can wait to talk to you until morning."

Hermione went to leave but before she could turn in her chair, Draco stopped her, reaching under the table and pulling her foot back into place, _back into his lap_.

"Don't be ridiculous." said Draco. His voice was dangerously low, and there was an intense drawl to it. He was reeling her in. "You came here for a reason."

Hermione's breathing quickened as her chest rose and fell under her knit cotton sweater. She had insinuated the act, yet she was the one that was nervous.

"Yes, well…" Hermione began, forgetting her words as he massaged her small foot in his warm hands. It tickled. "I-I... didn't realize...," Why in God's name was she forgetting how to speak. _'String coherent sentences together, Hermione! It's not hard!'_ she thought angrily.

The blonde boy in front of her laughed as if he could read her thoughts. This only intensified her anger. He smiled down at her, his features soft, the normal severity of his gaze failing in his eyes. He was waiting for her to speak, so she opted for an easier escape.

"Everything went well then?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer to her question.

Draco's smiled turned into a smirk.

"Is that really what you came here to ask me?" The blond haired boy in front of her asked, knowing her better than that.

"Yes." She lied with a shaky voice before giving herself away. "No."

Hermione took a cleansing breath before she continued. "I came tell you…" Hermione tried again, clearing her throat and withdrawing her foot, her breathe hitching as it grazed something hard.

Draco arched a silvery-white brow.

"That…," Why did her thoughts keep traveling back under the table, to that thing between his legs? Her foot still tingled from where she had touched him. "That… Kingsley suggested we continue on with the ritual." There, she finally said it!

Hermione watched as a smile broke across his lips.

"I'll agree," Draco began, attention turning to his tea. "On one condition,"

Hermione waited for him to continue.

"I confessed something to you last night." Draco reminded her, much to her dismay.

"You said a lot of things last night." Hermione didn't mean to sound so stung, but his mind games had been cruel.

"Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy everything you heard." He inquired with a slight tease to his voice.

Hermione huffed, "Actually, I didn't. You spouted nothing more than tactless lies!"

Draco shook his head, his smile fading, and cold grey eyes turning to ice.

"What do I have to gain, by lying about something like this?" Draco's voice shook with anger.

"How am I supposed to know?" Hermione exasperated. "I've never understood your reasons for things. You persecuted me the moment I stepped off the train at Hogwarts. You have been one of the single most tormenting person in my life. You're a constant evoker of negative feelings and self doubt. You're a foul virus. So tell me Malfoy," Hermione continued heatedly. "How could I _ever_ believe through all of that, that you ever harbored one single good feeling for me?"

Draco bowed his head, lightning flashing in his cold blue eyes. "What did you honestly expect me to do, Granger?" Draco spat. "I didn't exactly have a choice then. I was a boy. A stupid, foolish child!"

"Not much has changed." Hermione whispered vehemently.

Draco's upper lip quivered. "When your life is indebted to someone like Voldemort, you do what you have to survive."

In one quick motion Hermione stood up to leave, not wanting to be a part of his charade any longer. As soon as she stood from the table, Draco grabbed her by the wrist, spinning her around to face him.

Her body slammed against his and she swallowed hard, fearing what might transpire next. His eyes were on her. She looked up, staring up into pools of blue and sparking silver.

When Hermione's stance didn't waver, he continued; his voice hard.

"To be completely honest with you, the first time I ever saw you, I was annoyed. Your stupid know-it-all-antics damn well nearly drove me insane. Then, as the years passed, I got a chance to watch you grow. I became amused. This bushy haired, brash, Muggle-born was actually keeping me up at night." Draco laughed despite himself. He leaned in closer. Their noses almost touched. "You don't know how many times I've lain with Pansy wishing it was you."

Hermione shuddered. If all of this stemmed back to their time at Hogwarts, well, then he had been sexually active long before she had even considered kissing a boy.

"You're lying." Hermione breathed.

He ignored her latter statement as he continued. "Do you remember The Yule ball in our fourth year?" Draco asked; his voice lowering.

Hermione nodded her head. Her eyes had fluttered closed without her even noticing.

"You wore that pink periwinkle dress, with frilly things all down the sides." Draco continued.

"I remember." She had spent hours getting dressed up and doing her makeup. It all went to waste just a few hours later when she was left crying over Ron.

"That's when I knew." Draco whispered huskily, fingering the collar of her knitted jumper. Hermione's eyes shot open. She remembered seeing Draco's guarded expression when she had entered the room with Victor Krum. _'He was probably thinking of all the snide remarks he could make about a Mudblood's futile attempt to tame her bushy head.'_ Her words laced with resentment even in her own mind.

Draco's fingertips caressed the bite mark on her neck, before bending down to kiss it. Her body trembled with mixed emotions.

"This has gone too far." Hermione whispered, stepping away and twisting her wrist in his hands in an attempt to get free, but he had a firm grasp. "Your mind games are cruel, Draco." There, she had said his name. _"Even for you."_ she hissed through her teeth.

"Believe me." It sounded like a command as he stared down at her, eyes pleading. Or was Malfoy _begging_? "Just believe that I love you, and I'll agree to continue on with the ritual."

"Believe you?" Hermione spat, brown eyes filling with liquid hurt. "Believe the boy who used to call me names? Trust the person who used to want me dead?"

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"You're sick." Her small voice eventually broke. Hermione's insides were twisting. Out of all the ways to try and tear her down, this was definitely the most original.

The sound of the library door bursting open startled both she, and the blonde haired boy that stood face to face with her. They instantly turned. It was Ron. He was rushing toward her and Draco in a mad rage. Hermione yanked her hand out of Draco's clasps just in time for Ron to cast a spell that sent Malfoy flying into a nearby wall.

"RON!" Hermione yelled, running over to Draco's side. The impact of Draco's body slamming against the wall caused it to crack. Smoke and dust littered the air.

Ron looked beside himself with anger and jealousy. "You're actually helping _him_ up? After all he's put you through, all the ways he's hurt you!"

"RON?" Harry called from behind the fuming Weasley. "Think about what you're doing mate. We shouldn't be in here."

"Yeah Ron, I think this room is off limits." Ginny stated pointedly, seeing Hermione lift Draco off the dirtied floor.

"It's a library." Ron stated matter-of-factly, his words inked with venom. "I have as much right to be in here as anyone else."

"Ron, _you_ don't read." Ginny reminded him, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

"Well, I READ TODAY!" Ron declared stupidly.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ron, you need to get out of here!" Hermione shouted angrily.

"I'm not leaving without you!" he exclaimed semi-heroically. Hermione blushed. She had wanted 'this' Ron to come out for quite some time now, however, it was the wrong time and place to start playing hero.

When Draco eventually brushed all the dust off of his dark robes he turned to face the crazed looking Weasley who had just blasted him into a wall.

"I bet you enjoyed that surge of power just now!" Draco smirked, smoothing out his once pressed robes. "Don't forget how you acquired it… and how it came to be."

Ron's face turned a violent shade of red. In an instant his wand was raised at the smirking Slytherin, letting loose a stunning spell. "_STUPEFY!_" he roared.

He wasn't quick enough, however, for Hermione's shield charm. "_Protego!_" she shouted angrily, with a steady hand. From the look in his eye, she wasn't entirely sure which of the two Ron had intended the stunning spell to hit; he looked furious at both of them. Her shield rebounded the jet of red light before it could come in contact with either her or Draco. The flash of red was in no comparison to that of the scarlet face the jet narrowly missed.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she screeched before he had a chance to curse or hex the source of his anger, or attempt to rid the world of Draco Malfoy. His wand flew from his hand, slamming into a bookshelf with a defined clack. His anger reaffirmed by the rouge tinted scowl painted along his freckled features.

"You just make sure to keep your bloody hands off of my girlfriend!" Ron declared heatedly, now unarmed.

Hermione's heart dropped. Did he just decide they were dating?

Hermione watched as Draco's face hardened at Ron's words. He glared at the red headed boy with a dark and warning message swimming just below the depths of his silver storms. He took a step closer to the irate boy standing in front of him, and Hermione went to grab his arm.

"Someone needs to make sure she's taken care of… _properly_." Draco finished pointedly. Hermione blushed. Both Ginny and Harry shifted uncomfortably in the back ground. "And if I remember correctly, Kingsley stated that her wand attracts mine, not yours."

"Okay that's enough!" Hermione interrupted them, roughly pulling on the arm she had grasped in her slender fingers. Her voice shaky now. "Harry, please get him out of here. I'll be out in a minute."

Harry nodded his head and forcefully pulled Ron from the room, Ginny gingerly picked up Ron's discarded wand and followed suit.

"Meet me in our room in half an hour." Draco whispered in her ear before she could turn around to face him. In another quick moment, Hermione, frozen in shock from all that had transpired within the last few minutes, watched as Malfoy exited the same door as Ron.

* * *

><p>Minutes later she found herself in a heated argument with a certain fire headed Weasley.<p>

"Hermione," The red faced boy exclaimed stiffly. "There's no way I'm allowing this to continue!"

"We don't have a choice." Hermione explained with a guilty pain creeping into to her chest. She hated seeing him worked up like this.

Ron stood away from her, arms folded at his chest.

"I love you, Ron." Hermione assured him. "Nothing could change that."

"You're going to him tonight, aren't you?" Ron asked sourly. He was pouting.

"Yes." Hermione answered, the feeling of a pointed blade piercing her heart.

"Will you stay with me a bit longer?" Ron asked with a sign of hope, arms still folded tightly.

"Of course." Hermione smiled weakly, her tangled heart unwinding.

By _staying for a bit longer_, Ron must have meant he wanted 'sex', because he was soon ushering her clothes off with his hands. Hermione let him, and feeling slightly confidant, allowed the lights to stay turned on.

"Be careful Ron," She reminded him as he squeezed one of her breast too tightly.

She didn't think he could hear her, as he hungrily attacked the other breast with his clumsy tongue.

"Use your teeth." Hermione suggested, trying to gain pleasure from his slobbering mouth.

Ron bit down a little too hard and Hermione winced in pain. "Okay that's enough."

When it came time for him to enter her, it was she who guided him in this time. As soon as she slid him inside of her his body tightened. She feared he'd go to soon again, but he stopped above her, regaining his composure. Hermione placed her hands on the sides of his back dully, not too sure with what to do with them.

"You can move." Hermione assured him. "You're not hurting me."

"Give me a minute." Ron said through gritted teeth. "Okay… I'm ready."

As soon as he started to move, Hermione wiggled her hips underneath him and he immediately stopped again.

"Try not to move too much, Hermione." He warned with a sudden gasp.

"Sorry." She apologized, wondering what it was she had done wrong.

He started to move over her once again. He was going so slow, Hermione hardly felt any movement at all. The entire act went on for about five minutes, when Hermione bravely suggested that she get on top.

Ron rolled off of her. "Good idea." He breathed heavily. "I was getting tired."

Hermione rolled her eyes. What did he do that was so bloody tiring?

Somewhere in the back of her mind Hermione wished that he'd take control. She didn't want to be man handled, just slightly taken advantage of. Hermione shook those thoughts from her head, maybe Ron wasn't like that. Perhaps, he wanted to be dominated.

Hermione crawled on top of him, trying to bring the sexy back into the situation, even though she really felt quite stupid.

She put her hand between her legs and brought him up to her folds. She slid down onto him, and Ron quickly grabbed her hips groaning.

When she began rocking her hips back and forth Ron's eyes fluttered shut, and she swore he started drooling. Hermione closed her eyes too, feeling slightly embarrassed over the situation. _'Picture something, anything!'_ she told herself. Her time with Draco had been different. She had felt like a completely different witch with him. He had been forceful, pleasing, and passionate. She could see his face, and remembered the feeling of his rough caress. Her hips moved faster.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. She wasn't listening; she was too busy picturing blonde hair and perfectly carved pale flesh.

Ron's nails dug into Hermione's hips as he let out a cursing moan. Hermione stopped moving as soon as she felt a hot liquid spurt inside of her. When he was done twitching she lifted herself off of him.

"That was amazing!" Ron breathed beside her.

Hermione begged to disagree, but didn't want to spoil his moment.

"Was it good for you too?" He asked, not knowing that he had gone before she even had the chance to get any satisfaction of her own.

"Of course." She hid her lie with a smile as she got up to get dressed. "I have to go." Hermione stated, searching for her clothes.

"Already?" Ron asked wearily.

"Afraid so." She replied, wanting to bolt for the door.

"M'kay." Ron said, drifting off to sleep. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was as if their shag had made him completely forget where she would be going afterwards. When Hermione exited the room she went to find Draco. He had told her to meet him in half an hour. She was late. She hoped he was still there, but knowing him, he'd grown impatient quickly and disapparate at the first excuse he could find. Her being late was definitely one he could play off of.

* * *

><p>When Hermione opened the door to 'their' room, and saw a flash of blonde locks along with a strong jaw line, her heart soared. Draco was standing in front of the fireplace. He had <em>waited<em> for her.

"You're late." He said without turning to face her.

"I was delayed." She explained, her cheeks still flushed, as she closed the door quietly behind her. "_Colloportus_…_Muffliato_." She whispered, almost inaudibly on the last incantation, as she quickly used her wand to lock the door and cast a silencing charm around the room. When finished with setting the wards, she pocketed her wand as she turned on her heels and bashfully leaned back against the grainy wood of the door.

Draco turned to face her, and as soon as his eyes met hers, the area between her legs dampened.

Hermione bit her bottom lip as he took a step closer to her. When he flicked his blonde feathered locks out of his face she had to press her legs firmly together, suppressing the urge to jump him.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked a little concerned. "You look a little bothered."

Hermione nodded her head, her eyes falling to his lips.

Standing in front of him, inhaling his spiced scent, only intensified the burning desire that swirled in her lower abdomen.

She took a few brave steps toward him, licking her lips in dire need. He stared down at her, confused by her sudden advances.

To her surprise he took a few shy steps away from her until his back bumped the wall of the stone fireplace. Hermione daringly continued on, closing the gap between them, her soft breast molded into his solid chest. Her trembling hand went to his groin, and she listened as his breath stilled when she cupped him in her hands.

Her eyes glazed over as she studied the contours of his perfect mouth. She wanted to kiss him, but she wanted to savor the moment even more. She felt the soft bulge in her hands slowly start to harden as she worked him over.

Hermione's free hand went to yank his dark shirt from out of his neatly pressed pants. Once loosened, her warm fingers slid beneath the fabric to caress the cold hard flesh of his abdomen. Draco merely stood there, composed, allowing her to grope and violate his perfectly carved physique.

As Hermione leaned up to nuzzle her face against his, she felt the sudden urge to bite the skin of his soft cheek. No longer able to suppress the desire, she brought his smooth skin between her teeth, seductively sucking and lapping at the heated pulse point just below his jaw line. He tasted clean, and fresh, like rich powdered soaps. The taste buds at the tip of her silky tongue detected a hint of expensive chocolates. It was an intoxicating combination to her extrasensory pleasure. She faintly wondered what _other_ areas of him would taste like.

Finally, after strenuous moments of teasing, her lips tackled his into a wet fiery kiss. Their lips massaged into each other's warmly, but their tongues were cold and slick with desire.

Draco's hands tangled themselves in her long dark locks, while she continued to massage him through his pants.

She didn't know what was causing her to act this way, but she loved it; that feeling of empowerment. She wanted to grind her body into his until they were one. She wanted to taste every part of his body like a starved animal. Hermione's fingers unzipped Draco's pants, and she gasped into his mouth when she felt his length drop out. She wrapped her hand around him trying to close her fingers all the way round, but he was too thick. She smiled erotically at this knowledge; feeling as though she was the Secret-Keeper of this precious information.

"I want to know what you taste like." Hermione whispered breathlessly, her sweet voice turning erotic for the very first time.

"You've got a dirty mouth, Granger." Draco said through clenched teeth, as his crystal blue orbs suddenly turned into flickering flames.

Hermione kissed him roughly one last time before dropping to her knees.

Directed by passion instead of experience, Hermione did what she craved to do, letting her animalistic nature take over. She gripped his length in her fingers carefully with one hand, while the other slid back under his shirt to admire his perfectly carved abs.

Hermione's hot mouth covered him, and she took him in as far as she could. The tip of his arousal grazed the back of her throat.

Draco's fingers fisted in her hair, sweetly at first, before greedily encouraging her to continue.

The tall blonde's arousal completely filled her mouth, causing her eyes to water, and when that became too much for her, she licked his length from the base of his sack all the way up to the tip of his throbbing head. Teasing him, she put just the shinning pink bulb of his arousal into her mouth and began sucking and twirling her tongue around it as if it was a piece of hard candy. Draco gave a low throaty moan, but it was a short lived pleasure as he swiftly gripped her by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet.

Hermione blinked incoherently, licking her lips as she stared up at him, confused. Why had he stopped her?

"How did that taste?" Draco asked breathlessly, trailing his thumb across her plump bottom lip, smearing the traces of his precum.

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, and her stomach jolted at his provocative use of words. She sucked his finger clean of the pearly liquid in response.

"I need to show you something." Draco whispered in her ear, hands still cupping her face.

Hermione opened her eyes and peered at him curiously. His hands were now re-clasping the button of his trousers. She bit her flushed bottom lip in disappointment.

Her impatience brought a smile to his perfect lips, one that reached his eyes. "Patience, my Lioness." He whispered slyly, reminding her that he was a Snake.

"Come." He guided her to a vanity dresser on the other side of the room. On it, were numerous -lit- wax candles, a few empty uncorked tiny vials lying to the side, and in the center sat a large silver dish.

Hermione stood over the vessel and recognized what it was instantly.

"A pensieve…" Hermione acknowledged, turning slightly to look over her shoulder, not realizing Draco was right behind her.

"There's something I want you to see." said Draco, his eyes shining a confessing shade of blue. "_Aguamenti_." He commanded, tapping the bowl's edge with his wand. She watched patiently as a small stream of water flowed freely from the wood, filling the basin, all the while her stomach twisted in knots with anticipation of what he planned to show her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, wanting to know before she poked her head in for a quick peek.

"Go ahead." Draco gestured softly toward the dish.

Hermione took a deep breath. She placed her shaky palms flat on either side of the silver pensieve. Taking one last look at the reflection of them together in the vanity mirror, Hermione prepared herself.

"You've _seen_ me, _felt_ me…_tasted_ me." Soft lips grazed her left ear. "Now I want you to understand me." His words tickled her flesh as he slowly trailed kisses down the side of her neck. Each kiss felt like volcanic ice, giving her the courage to step inside his mind. Hermione dipped her face into the giant vessel containing the memories, _his memories_, and she immediately felt herself drifting off to another time.

_She was at Hogwarts. It was their second year. She was at Harry's Quidditch practice and Draco Malfoy had just called her a Mudblood for the very first time. Her younger self was angry and hurt, but there was something she didn't realize that day in the courtyard surrounded by so many Muggle-born hating feigns. Hermione watched on the outside as her younger self ran off to cry alone in solitude. Draco's younger self stood there and watched as she fled. A curious, yet unsatisfied look spread across his pale features as his friends continued to laugh and joke at her expense. _

_The next few images were much of the same. More taunting and teasing. Only from the angle she was in now, she noticed that most of the encounters were planned and often times unprovoked. He had staked her out. He went out of his way in between classes, dinners, and outings just to cross paths with her; even if the short-lived reward was at the cost of her tears._

He didn't even invest that much time into 'The Boy Who Lived'. Why did he inconvenience himself so much just to see her cry? What did the tears of a Muggle-born really mean to him, were they honestly that precious?

_Another year raced by, and Hermione found herself standing face to face with, her past self at the Yule Ball. Victor Krum had been her date. She watched as she made her grand entrance with the Quidditch hero, and noticed something else she'd missed out on that night amongst the many faces in the crowd. Draco Malfoy had been one of the first to see her enter the room, and for the first time, there was no bitter look of loathing in his eyes._

Had she misunderstood that look in his eyes all those years ago?

_He didn't appear to hate her. If anything, he held a look of utter fascination as his curious blue orbs surveyed her tamed, sleek brown hair, and periwinkle dress, the very hairs on his arms stood up in awe. Pansy Parkinson, the pug on his arm, whispered something into his ear, but at no reply. The pale Slytherin Prince was too fixated on the Gryffindor Muggle-born in front of him to pay her any mind._

_Hermione continued to watch her younger self as she danced with the famous Quidditch Champion, and realized that _his_ cold grey eyes were on her the entire time. The night ended much as she remembered. She fought with Ron over Victor, and the git eventually stormed off alongside a frightened Harry Potter, as she vocally ushered them to their dormitories in a shrill voice…_

But wait, if she was seeing this, then that means Malfoy must have seen it too.

_Hermione of the present turned to see a shadow lurking in the dark. It was Draco. He looked like he was about to interrupt her sulking in an attempt to mock her, but he hesitated, and as if he possessed one strand of decency, he turned to leave._

Hermione felt a stitch mend a piece of her heart, but the scene soon disappeared, and she found herself exiting the portal of the past. Gasping, Hermione's head lifted from the silver pensieve with a splash. Taking in deep shallow breaths, she noticed her hands were being pressed along the table by Draco's, their fingers intertwined. His chest was pushed up against her back, with his chin resting lightly on her shoulder.

"I didn't know." Malfoy whispered into her ear. It sounded like an apology. Hermione blinked in realization and confusion. "I didn't know that I loved you."

Hermione swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the matter. Those images had always played in her dreams like nightmares, but now he had just introduced a new sick meaning to them.

"You… _didn't_ know." Hermione repeated breathlessly.

"I taunted you because I was taught to hate you." Draco explained into the crevice of her neck, tickling her flesh. "I didn't expect to fall in love with the thing I was trying to destroy."

Hermione felt hot searing tears splash over her lashes and onto her cheeks.

_"Why did you show me this?"_ Hermione hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low.

"Because… I wanted you to understand _why_." said Draco.

"I understand!" Hermione's voice broke. "I understand that you're a very _sick _perverse person!" She whirled around to face him, still entrapped by his arms, with fresh shining tears forming in her eyes. "What you just showed me isn't love, Malfoy. You're obsessed with seeing me in pain. My tears hold some kind of special value to you–"

"For such a bright Witch, you're being awfully thick right now!" Draco interrupted her, staring into her drowning brown orbs with a look of determination in his eyes.

Hermione shook her head, sharing her tears with the dusty floor.

"You say I'm cruel Granger, that all I want to do is see you in pain." Draco stated hardly, staring as far into the depths of her eyes as he could. "Well, what do you think it does to me when you barge in here manipulating my feelings with lustful actions? For years I've told myself I couldn't have you. So don't come in here if you're looking to play pretend. I don't _just_ want your body; I want that quick thinking mind of yours too. I want you to think better of me, because I'd rather die now than have you shed another tear at my expense."

Hermione cowered under the harsh intensity of his gaze.

"If you can't accept that I love you, then I can't do this." Draco's tone fell lower until she swore she heard his voice break.

"I love Ron." Hermione stated through her tears. She made it sound like an undeniable fact, despite the unresolved feelings looming around in her heart.

"And I like to shag Pansy," Draco stated just as matter-of-factly. "It doesn't mean they're good for us."

Hermione felt her heart twitch. He was doing in again.

"Bye, Malfoy." Hermione stated dryly, shoving past him.

He didn't say anything else as he watched her go. He just stood there, an implacable expression lining his perfect pale features.

As Hermione closed the thick door behind her she felt faint. She wondered for a brief glorious moment, if reluctance could give faith another shot, but that thought faded away as soon as her slender fingers slid away from the brass knob. She could forgive him for six years of pain, tears, and turmoil; but forgiveness didn't mean she had the ability to trust. No, those were two entirely different words; with two very different meanings, and earning one didn't automatically grant the other a free ride.

Draco Malfoy had always been a cocky green Dragon; a deceitful black snake. His very name foreshadowed his obscenity. So, with that in mind, believing he loved her posed more of a threat than anything else. What would she do with the love of a tainted heart? For years he had '_shown_' her he loved her by calling her names and bullying her friends. If she were to truly believe him, what would that mean for her? She loved Ron. She had always loved Ron, but… something deep down in the pit of her gut told her, that if she accepted Draco's feelings for truth, then someone was bound to get hurt.

After a few more moments of hesitation, Hermione decided to go to bed. Sleep would help her mind cope. On her way up the rickety staircase she saw the memory of Draco lurking in the shadows as she cried over the freckled face redhead play out in her mind once again, it sent shivers down her spine. She wondered how many times he had been there when she was at her worst, and maybe, just maybe, she was never as alone as she thought she was.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Notes<span>:** Hope you liked it! Please tell us your thoughts about this chapter! What did you like, love, or hate in this post titled 'Draco's Memories'?

Remember to Copy & Paste your favorite line(s) and/or sentence(s) from this chapter in your review (even if that's all you wan't to put into the review). We're curious to see if our favorite line is yours as well! :)

Thank you all so much for the kind words you've sent in PM's and posted in your reviews! You're the reason this story continues on!


	4. The Truth Will Out!

**A/N:** Welcome to our little Smuttress Lair! Sorry for the long overdue chapter update. The next one shouldn't take so long to be posted, it's currently in progress! Yay! Also, earlier today we posted a new Dramione oneshot titled 'Hogwarts' Worst Kept Secret'. Maybe you'll check it out? lol! ;D (Love the shameless self promotion.)

Please let us know your thoughts about what you specifically do and/or don't like about this chapter. Also, does anyone recognize where we got the chapter title from? I love playing the 'guessing game', so please humor me and give us _your_ guesses!

We do hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: We own nothing... Except our laptops! Lol!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 4:<span> **The Truth Will Out

Along with The Order's newest arrivals, one of which was shoved into her and Ginny's already cramped sleeping quarters, Hermione found herself with no place to lie her head for the night. She found that solitude was scarce in a house packed so tight. Hermione grabbed her purple bottomless beaded bag that had become a suitcase for all of Harry and Ron's magical items over the last couple of years. She left from the room with a looming question forming in her mind, one that she would soon have to make a decision for, and quickly. Her only two options became a heated battle inside of her own mind. '_Ron or Malfoy?' _she mulled over. She didn't have to think long, because her feet were already quick in action, dragging her along with or without her consent, down the creaking staircase, and along the chilly halls. Hermione stood frozen at _their_ door, trying fervently to empower her legs to turn her around, to run as fast and as far away as she could.

'_I should turn around.'_ she thought to herself. _'This could potentially be dangerous.'_ With that imploring thought in mind, why wasn't she listening?

Hermione's jaw clenched painfully as her free hand fisted at her side, while her other treacherous member grasped the cold doorknob. She pleaded with her extended limb to follow suit and remain by her side, however, it refused. In one swift motion her slender fingers had soundlessly twisted and pushed open the wooden door before her. '_Stop fretting,' _she told herself, _'Besides, he's gone.' _

Realizing she was alone, Hermione entered the room with a sigh of relief. Deciding that she wanted to keep her privacy, she warded the door with all the charms she could think of. It didn't take long for her to wander over to the enormous bed in the corner of the room. On the way she glanced over and spied the pensieve that, less than half an hour ago, had shattered her thoughts, scrambling them into a million tiny pieces.

Hermione let the bag at her side fall to her feet as she pulled the gray knitted cotton jumper from over her head. In a clumsy effort, she slid tiredly out of her jeans, depositing them onto the floor below. She felt much more relaxed in just her black cotton tank top and lacy green and black knickers. She was grateful her best friend had dressed her in something so comfortable,_ however_ revealing.

Hermione slid her fatigued body into the large bed, it was warm and inviting; that's about the time realization struck her. _'Why would I come in here if that meant chancing an encounter with Malfoy? What in the world was I thinking, why didn't I just go to Ron?'_ Not that she was contemplating leaving, she was just mulling over mindless, delayed thoughts, ones she should have been thinking before she braved an entrance into the room. _'What if he had been in here?'_ she thought suddenly, cursing herself.

Forcing herself to clear her jumbled mind, she pulled the thick covers up to her chin, allowing herself to just lie there as she silently stared up at the peeling plaster of the ceiling for a good five minutes. All the while her head was swimming with the images of a far off, much younger, time warped Malfoy. '_Did he tamper with the so called memories just to play another sick and perverse trick on me; his filthy, always-to-quick-to-shed-a-tear-Mudblood?' _A fresh wave of tears had already begun to streak down her face, threatening to roll into her hairline. Pity, he wasn't even in the room to revel in her sorrow. "Ugh! He's such an arse!" Hermione exclaimed.

At this rate there was no way she would be able to get any rest, least of all, any peace of mind.

Hermione grabbed at the bed's retreating sheets with a huff and yanked them from her slender body. How could she possibly sleep with all of Draco's memories swimming around in her head? Her heart cringed at the thought of him realizing he loved her when he had seen her at the Yule Ball.

With an audible exhale, Hermione shoved her body off of the pillow-top mattress. She was about to do something extremely risky, not to mention stupid, but she didn't care. She needed to know the truth, and the only way to do that was to travel back into the past, to a time when Draco Malfoy would rather die than show any sort of decency toward a Mudblood.

Remembering the rules, and knowing the potential danger, Hermione went to grab her wand. She then retrieved the Time Turner and Harry's old Marauder's map, which she had kept tucked securely inside of her beaded bag; despite the fact that she swore she'd never use either of them ever again.

She knew that for every turn of the hour glass meant rewinding one hour of real time. She didn't have to think twice about what place in time she wanted to venture back to.

Tapping the time turner with the tip of her wand, the golden orbs of the necklace spun faster than she had ever seen them spin. She felt the world around her start to fall away. She was going back in time, back to when Draco said _he first knew_.

As soon as Hermione's feet landed in a familiar spot, she silently swore under her breath. In her sudden haste and determination she had forgotten to throw back on her clothes. _'Perfect.'_ she thought bitterly. If someone saw her now, she would be more screwed than she already was. She would be forever known as the Gryffindor harlot who liked to run around the castle late at night in nothing but her knickers!

Hermione took special care in order to not be seen as she crept through the halls of the castle. It was surreal. She had to keep reminding herself to be careful, and that she had already lived out this part of her life.

She made it as far as the dungeons when she heard the sounds of heels clicking up the stone spiral staircase. She quickly tucked into a corner and waited for the person to pass her by. Hermione held her breath. It was Pansy, she was rushing passed her in a frenzied race for the tops of the stairs. _'Had she forgotten something?'_ Hermione faintly wondered. Well, at least Malfoy would be alone Hermione realized.

Hermione continued to tiptoe down the stone steps. As she peeked around the stone corner she was thankful that the normally busy corridor was empty. Luckily, Hermione remembered where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was; however, that didn't mean she knew the password. Standing outside of its entrance, listening to its snoring keeper, Hermione wondered, perhaps a bit too late, how she was supposed to get in. She was so close. Hermione tucked her body into the shadows of a darkened corner, waiting for someone to exit. _'Slytherins were always out past curfew hours, it shouldn't take long.'_ Hermione assured herself.

Just as Hermione held that thought in mind, two Slytherin first years exited the green and black painted portrait. Hermione had half a mind to tell them off for being out passed curfew hours; however, she knew that she was in no state to lecture anyone.

Hermione slid in through the portrait hole as soon as they were far enough away for her to go unnoticed. A dim green light was the only color in the darkened room, otherwise it was pitch black. It allowed her to move around a bit more freely, as she searched for the boy with blonde hair, and a knack for making her cry.

Harry and Ron had once told her that all Slytherin's had their own personal chambers. _'It fits their untrustworthy characters perfectly.'_ She remembered thinking to herself.

Now that she had made it, undetected, into the Slytherin common room, Hermione pulled out Harry's old Marauder's Map. She had kept it hidden under her arm. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." She whispered into the old worn parchment as she tapped her wand against the center of it once more, this time in search of a certain blonde haired Slytherin.

When Draco Malfoy's name appeared on the map she felt as if she had struck gold, this led her to the door of his personal quarters. With the help of a lifetime's worth of pent up anger and frustration, Hermione's hand immediately went to grab the silver knob, pushing the door open with little to no hesitation.

Draco's expression was the only reward she needed as she barged into his room. The blonde headed Slytherin was just about to take off his elegant dress robes when the sight of her standing in the doorway of _his_ bedchambers, stopped him in his tracks.

"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing in here, Granger!" Draco demanded; his face hardening as he looked her over, the color draining from his already pale face.

Hermione ignored him, "_Colloportus_…_Muffliato_." She hastily recited the incantations to lock the door and set the silencing charm around his bedchambers. Without a second glance at the Malfoy of her past, she rounded on her bare heels, and walked leisurely over to his bedside, sitting down as if he had invited her for a visit; like they were a couple of old friends having a spot of tea together.

Draco stared after her, looking aghast and utterly dumbfounded. His normal, more vial insults failing at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy." Hermione replied innocently, although her insides were burning for some kind of truth. "Was I interrupting something?" she crooked a dark brow.

Draco stared from Hermione to his bedroom door and back again, as if trying to figure out how any of this had transpired. "What in Salazar's name are doing on my bed?" Draco yelled in disgust. "You'll soil the sheets!"

"Oh." said Hermione, as if she were confused. "You mean you don't want me here?" She made to move, sliding off the edge of his bed to stand.

"_What are wearing- ,"_ Draco asked vehemently, after a quick moment of looking her over, he then turned away in disgust. "And why would I want a Mudblood in my bed?" he hissed, blinking back his focus.

"I don't know. Why _would_ you want a Mudblood in your bed?" Hermione asked just as seriously, not caring that she was parading around in her knickers, that just so happened to be in the favor of the Slytherin house colors.

"Just what are you playing at, Granger?" Draco asked, backing away from her as she took a few brash steps toward him. She had never seen him this flustered before. He couldn't even manage a decent insult.

"You mean you don't know?" Hermione asked him, forcing calm, despite the fact that she wanted to mangle him. Draco stared after her, confused, and for the first time rendered speechless.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy what you saw." said Hermione, reminding him of the fact that his eyes had been tailing her all evening.

"And what did I see that was so bloody memorable?" Draco huffed, despite the fact that he was being backed into a corner.

"Oh I don't know," Hermione shrugged before continuing, "A pale pink dress and sleek brown hair. You left her crying on the steps of the Grand Staircase. Don't tell me you don't remember!"

Draco's dawning expression gave him away, but he countered her reminder as if it were a mindless fact. "So what, I watched you cry. Now tell me, what the bloody hell possessed you to come in here." at this, he took out his wand and pointed it towards her chest.

The difference between the future-Draco and the Draco standing face to face with her, was the fear that this one would actually hex her, but that's what she wanted. She needed to know that his feelings were a farce, and there was only one way to find that out.

Hermione, being bravely naïve, or was it confidently stupid, took the last few steps toward him in order to close in the difference. They were face to face now. His wand was touching the cotton of her black tank, poking at her flesh. The carved pointed wood just barely grazed the confines of her heart.

"Go ahead." Hermione whispered, halfheartedly searching his silver storm clouds for a gentler sky.

Draco stared after her a moment, confusion etching the lines of his pale face, and when he hesitated a bit longer, Hermione took matters further into her own hands. She boldly tore off her dark top, and tossed it carelessly to the carved stone floor.

"_Go ahead."_ She hissed, pressing her bare chest further into the blade of his wand.

Draco stumbled backward, his once severe eyes turning into billowing clouds.

"What's wrong Malfoy?" Hermione teased harshly. "Aren't I making this easy for you?"

While the silencing charm Hermione had cast kept any noise from leaving the room, noise from the outside could still be heard, and a very angry Pansy Parkinson was relentlessly banging on the bedroom door, begging to be let in, like the puglet she was, but neither of them were paying her any mind.

Draco's silver eyes hesitantly skimmed over her bare flesh as his wand fell a bit lower at his side, and despite the harshness in his voice, he couldn't help but stare after her in awe. "What the bloody hell's wrong with you, Granger?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, until she swore she felt a droplet of blood break the surface. Then, to her surprise, she rushed him. At her attack, Draco fell backwards into a wall, dropping his wand as if it were a useless means of defense.

Hermione's hands went to slap at his chest, and Draco continued to stare after her, dumbfounded and awestruck. At each swipe and push of his chest, Draco fell further under her attack.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" Hermione yelled, her fist tangling in his black robes. "IF YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, JUST DO IT!" she shoved him.

After a few more seconds of allowing her to beat and rip at his chest, Draco captured Hermione's wrists in his hands, slowing her attacks.

Hermione's brown mane fell across her face in a disheveled mess; her breathing was left erratic. Neither knew what to say as he continued to confine her wrists in his strong grasps. She expected more insults, to be forced from his room, anything really, but no, instead she saw a familiar battle raging in his silver eyes, one that told her she needed to leave the room, and soon.

Hermione shook her chocolate locks out of her face, and braved a look up at him. He was staring down at her as if he had never seen her before, or perhaps it was because she was currently topless.

The sound of Pansy's relentless knocking, faintly reminded Hermione of something that the future Draco had said.

"Do you see bushy hair and brown eyes when you're fucking that pug?" Hermione asked him in a harsh quivering voice.

Draco said nothing. He merely continued to stare after her, and if it were possible; with an edge of fear building in his eyes.

"Do you think about touching me?" Hermione asked, unafraid of her own words. She didn't realize how something so innocent could provoke such a strong reaction, but the Snake in front of her was actually recoiling. "Does it make you want to touch yourself?"

Draco swallowed hard, and continued to stare down at her, his silver pools melting into brown sugar.

Hermione's heartbeat quickened when Draco's shaky hand reached out to touch her hair, and she blinked blindly despite her madness, when he tucked a russet curl behind her left ear. But when the blonde boy swallowed hard, as if unsure what to do next, that's when Hermione made a bittersweet revelation.

'_Oh Gods!'_ Hermione thought to herself, the fire in her heart freezing over to a soft chill. This Draco was still a _virgin_. It was a cute and endearing thought. He was actually innocent up until the point when she barged into the room and started taking off her clothes. No wonder he looked so petrified.

Hermione reached out and took his hands in hers, he objected at first, but he quickly allowed her to do as she pleased with them. Hermione, with Draco's hands in hers, placed his shaky palms alongside her waist, where she patiently waited for them to explore.

Draco's eyes fluttered down to where his palms came into contact with her soft milky skin. He looked as if he was struggling with himself, that never-ending battle of the Snake and the Dragon raging inside of his own head. Hermione found that his struggle became her own. Seeing the past, cruel vile Draco, in such a delicate state like this made her question a lot of things she thought she understood, however, those once seemingly obvious assumptions melted to dry pools at her feet.

When the taller boy bent down to capture her lips within his, it was then that she understood the truth. It was written in his stormy blue eyes as he battled himself to turn away from her. It was in the way he touched her, like she was some forbidden object, which torched his flesh upon contact. His fourth-year-self may not know it yet, but he loved her, and it enriched her heart as much as it burned her soul to have such a startling realization.

Hermione, more afraid now than when she had first entered the room, broke their searing kiss. She pulled away from him, terror lining the crevices of her dark speckled eyes.

Draco stared down at her, looking just as horrified as the Muggle-born standing in front of him. He brought an unsteady hand up to his lips, smearing his mouth of her wet kiss. He looked angry, although she couldn't tell who he was more upset with; her or himself.

Hermione took a few shy steps back, allowing an air of distance between them, but Draco, despite his anger and resentment, wouldn't allow it. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and slammed her harshly against the smooth tapestry wall.

The force of Hermione's back being shoved into the stone surface behind her caused the air to escape from her lungs, and she had to immediately struggle for a new batch of fresh air.

There wasn't a need for words as Draco lifted Hermione up, forcing himself between her bare thighs, roughly hooking her legs around his scored hips. She merely gasped at his violent display of affection, or was it years' worth of pent up sexual frustration, either way he was hungry for her. This Draco was different than the one that was currently being holed-up in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He was ruthless and unrestrained. It was as if carnal desire had taken the place of rushed consent. He would probably have his way with her whether she agreed to partake or not. Luckily, for her, there was a fire building in the pit of her gut, one that was yearning to be fulfilled.

She couldn't understand why this was so pleasurable. This man… _this_ _boy_… _this_ _Slytherin_ was still presently her worst enemy, and yet he couldn't take his hands off of her. Did she find pleasure in his taboo indulgences? Maybe it coaxed her little Mudblood ego to know that the boy who made her life a living hell was slowly being tortured by something as simple as her Muggle-born caress. Yes, that was it, or at least that's what she told herself as his quick learning tongue danced against hers in a never-ending dual of passion.

Hermione wrapped her arms as firmly as she could around the blonde boy's neck, and moaned when she felt him push his pelvis roughly into hers, grinding her into the wall. She could feel the long, thick, outline of his shaft pressed tightly beneath his trousers, and she wanted nothing more than to unzip his pants and free him of his restraints.

Hermione sucked playfully at his upper lip, and he gripped her legs tighter. Unable to contain himself any longer, one of Draco's hands went between them, where he hastily unzipped his trousers, freeing himself of his painful confinements.

Hermione's eyes widened at his boldness. He was inexperienced, yet he made it feel as if he'd done this a thousand times before. Draco loosened his grip on her, allowing her legs to once again reach the floor. In a matter of seconds his hands were ushering her undergarments off, and he was tearing himself out of the fancy dress robes he had worn at the evening's Yule Ball celebration.

The two of them, now naked, and breathing as if it were a chore, locked their limbs once again in a tangled dual for control. Draco lifted her up above his shaft, and she possessively wrapped her legs around his waist. He wrestled her hands in the air a bit, until he was able to pin them along the wall above her head.

He kissed her again. This time softly, despite the force that was driving them together. His lips were sweet, almost inviting. Hermione smiled to herself. He was asking for her permission. Hermione caressed his shaft with her slick heat in response, and he moaned huskily into her mouth. Permission granted.

Draco brought his length up to Hermione's wet opening with a free hand. He encircled the head of his arousal at the entrance of her flower, and she moaned despite herself. Then, in one swift motion he slipped into her, as far as his iron shaft could reach. Upon contact, they both sighed in harmonious relief.

Their connection was beautiful, rough, tantalizing, all of the things she would have fought to say it could never be, and yet, here she was, reliving Draco's first time as if it were her own. The blonde boy sighed and moaned with each deep, escalated thrust. Hermione clung to his warm, toned body, as if she were comforting him. Yes, she was comforting the boy who had called her names, the same devious Snake who had caused her pain. But for some odd reason, she couldn't help herself, or stop from cradling his sleek blonde head in her hands, as if to say 'It's okay'.

Draco merely rested his sweaty forehead into the crevice of her neck, and continued to push in and out of her warm tight center with accurate precision. Hermione let a small smile spread across her lips. She would have never imagined in a million years that she could steal away anyone's innocence, let alone, that of an arrogant Slytherin Prince.

For a Draco with no experience, he was still impeccable, still a mere shy hair away from perfect. She had figured he would need to stop his movements from time to time, for fear of _going_ too soon, but he didn't, he merely shifted, and slammed into her harder and deeper from a different angle; his persistence and endurance never once wavering. For the first time in Hermione's life she actually appreciated the game of Quidditch.

"Take me to bed." Hermione whispered breathlessly, and despite her request, feared the loss of his connection. She didn't have to fret for long, because Draco didn't dare detach himself from her, instead he kept their bodies firmly locked together as he carried her over to his massive four poster bed. Climbing into the tangle of sheets on his knees with her still wrapped securely in his arms, he gently set her down beneath him. Hermione arched her back, causing him to slide further into her depths. He hissed, and she brought her hand up to caress the skin of his cheek. He flinched at her touch. It was still too soon, Hermione realized. This Draco was still struggling with his feelings for her.

Moving over her once again, Draco proceeded on with their late night endeavor, and Hermione faintly wondered how this would affect their future, or more so, _her_ future. It took a while for Draco to reach _'that place'_ but when he did, Hermione felt his rough caresses turn wantonly violent. He gripped the flesh of her hip, digging his nails into her soft skin, and pinned one of her hands above her head as his thrusts became more rapid.

His quick motions and the feeling of his shaft teasing at her most sensitive parts caused Hermione to shudder and convulse beneath him. She had found her release without even knowing she was there. It was a sweet surprise, and Draco's hushed moans only intensified her searing orgasm. Feeling the need to bite down on something, _anything_, to silence her moans, Hermione's teeth came into contact with Draco's neck, and she bit down until she tasted that familiar copper flavor of _his_ blood.

Draco's body tensed as he fisted her brown tousled hair in his hands, slamming into her for a final, loin crushing time. He cursed under his breath along with his release, and Hermione shivered beneath him when she felt a warm liquid jet into the depths of her core.

Collapsing down on top of her lithe frame, crushing her breast with his ample chest, Draco buried his head into Hermione's neck. His warm quick breaths tickled her ear. She rested her hands on his back, encircling her fingers across his taunt worked muscle. His flesh burned under the light caresses of her velvet fingertips.

_If she had only known then, what she knew now._

She waited for him to move, but what would he have to say for himself if he did? She let him slowly drift off to sleep with her still cradling him in her arms. Hermione let a small smile spread across her lips. She had come here to confront the stupid prat, _not take away his_ _virginity_, but it was too late now; he was already fast asleep in her arms.

Hermione continued to lay there until she was sure he was fast asleep; then she gently slid from underneath him and gathered up her undergarments, redressing into them quickly. She knew that she had just potential altered an important aspect of their history, but she wasn't entirely sure if she was sorry just yet.

Hermione lifted her wand, turning toward the door, as she released the wards with a flick of her wrist.

Taking one last lingering glance at the blonde boy sleeping in front of her, Hermione tapped the necklace that had brought her here and watched as it spun into a golden blur. She was twirling in the air; the scenery around her was being replaced with images of the future. With a staggering halt, she was in her old room again, _their room_.

What she didn't expect to see, was a very enraged present-time Malfoy staring after her as if she had just destroyed the entire world.

"What in the Hell did you think you were doing?" Draco yelled, his pale face burning with anger. "Do you know what you've done?"

Hermione tried to catch her balance, despite the fact that she was currently cowering away from him.

"What did you expect to find by going back there?" Draco demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked innocently, although her heart fluttered faster than the wings of a retreating butterfly.

"Don't play coy with me, Granger. It wasn't just _your_ memory that you altered that night!" Draco declared; gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling it down to reveal a scar made from the incision of _her_ teeth marks.

Hermione swallowed hard. '_Oh no!'_

"How did you get in here? I was alone." Hermione stammered, changing the subject. _'How much of the future had really been changed?'_ she thought worriedly.

"Just that night." Draco stated nonchalantly, although she could tell he was holding something back. "But don't worry; it's only intensified my feelings for you by tenfold!" he barked.

'_Wait. Did he just read my mind?'_ Hermione thought fearfully.

"Legilimency." Draco reminded her with an air of impatience. "You're easy to read when you're upset."

"Oh, right… I'm sorry." Hermione whispered, not really knowing what to say, but feeling awful and selfish all the same.

"You wouldn't have to apologize if I didn't know." Draco stated, taking a few steps toward her. "The only reason I know something has been altered, is because my real memory of that night is swimming around in that damn pensieve!" he finished coolly, pointing a severe finger in the direction of the vanity.

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. It was then that she realized that she had done something unforgivable.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever understand you." Draco alleged; his confused face turning into a mirthless smile. "You say you don't believe me-, that you don't want to believe me, and yet you go back in time to shag my virginal self's vulnerable brains out."

Hermione backed further away from him until her back touched the stone wall.

"And you say my games are cruel." Draco hissed, standing just inches from her. "Well, Granger, as much as I'd like to thank you for making my younger self's dream come true, it's decision time. I can't go around with two memories of that night swimming around in my head."

Hermione swallowed hard, unsure of what he was asking her to do. "Go ahead." He seethed, gripping her wand hand and pressing it to his head. "Since you want to toil with the past, you can decide my fate!"

Hermione blinked incoherently. He wanted her to choose which memory to keep. Without a second's more consideration she pointed the tip of her wand to his temple and whispered. _"Obliviate."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** We hope you enjoyed this update! Please, let us know your thoughts about what you do/don't like about this chapter. Thanks once again to our wonderful readers and the lovely people who take the time out of their busy lives just to give us a review.

We love you all!

**Side Note:** Make sure to check out AND subscribe to our community titled 'DRAMIONEDRAMIONEDRAMIONE' :)


	5. Thoughts of a Dragon,Memories of a Snake

A/N: Dear Mini-Smuttresses, We'd like to apologize for the long overdue chapter. Sorry it's taken us sssooooo long to post. Though we hope you're still enjoying this story.

(Oh and I personally was SO excited that the last chapter (ch.4 - The Truth Will Out!) was 5,555 words in length! lol! I'm just a tad bit odd.) (:

Please let us know what you think of this chapter. Thanks, enjoy! :D

[READ IMPORTANT NOTE!]

* * *

><p><strong>-IMPORTANT-<strong>

***We meant to add in a note that this is from Draco's POV from when Hermione leaves the room at the end of chapter 3, but I didn't get a chance to and now we've left everyone confused...SO SORRY ABOUT THAT! [I recommend reading/skimming over chapter 3 a little before reading this, just for a little refresher. But that's completely up to you.] ...Also, I know we've kind of changed the rules of the time turner to better fit into our fic, I really am sorry if that upsets anyone... We like to break the rules a little bit ;)***

* * *

><p>Chapter 5:<p>

Thoughts of a Dragon, Memories of a Snake

(Being retold from Draco's POV, starting from the very end of chapter 3 when Hermione is leaving their room. This chapter starts right after Hermione just looked in the pensieve at Draco's memories, BEFORE anything to do with the time turner OR coming back to use 'Obliviate' on Draco...Dun dun dun! lol)

Draco watched with an implacable expression as Hermione stormed from the room. The young Witch was even kind enough to bid him farewell by closing the door shut with a forceful slam. The very walls of their quarters shook with anger in her departure. It was hard to believe, but he swore he felt the serpent inside of his heart recoil at her ill-mannered gesture.

Being dismissed by the easily abrasive Muggle-born of his affections, was of no new occurrence to the arrogant Slytherin. Draco simply let his usual mask of indifference slip into place as he ambled collectedly over to the stone fireplace. He settled down into one of the black velvet sitting chairs, allowing his shoulders to sink in defeat. Leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees, he held his head in the palms of his hands. Platinum blonde strands obstructed his view; however, his cerulean eyes never left the dancing flames of the kindling fire, as he let his mind drift.

Draco had just shown her the memories he had tried for so many years to suppress. He had just confessed to her for the second scorned night in row, that he loved her- that he'd always loved her. He couldn't say that he was surprised in the reality that she didn't believe him. In fact, he had known for sure that she wouldn't. If he knew his little Muggle-born Princess the way he thought he did, well then, he would bet that no amount of evidence would ever be sufficient enough for that quick, over thinking mind of hers. He had burnt that bridge of trust between them a thousand or so _"Mudblood's"_ ago.

Besides, it was written in the very cellblocks of his DNA to despise every impure fragment that she was. According to his father's teachings the _'Malfoy'_ blood reigned supreme. Little did he know that he was being brainwashed into thinking that purity stemmed from the offspring of incestuous bigots, and that success and fortune manifested itself at birth. His ancestors must not have known that you could achieve just as much greatness with or without your mother having to marry her first cousin.

_Greatness was _not_ a birthright._

However, despite all of this, he couldn't find it in himself to hate her, or to want to destroy the very thing that made him stop and question all of his previously satisfied, deep seeded views. Ever since his time at Hogwarts, when everyone's biggest worry was which house they were going to be sorted into, and whether or not Gryffindor was going to beat Slytherin in the next Quidditch match, he had accidentally and unexpectedly fallen for, the cocky, brash, Muggle-born Witch with no previous claim to the Wizarding World.

Back then he couldn't quite place his finger on it, not even as he sought her out on the school grounds and mocked her very life for merely existing, but he supposed he fell so hard because she was just as stubborn as he was. No matter how many times he called her a _'filthy Mudblood'_ or tried to dampen her spirits, she still held her bushy head high. And despite her plain looks, her cleverness made her blossom, or at least that's what he told himself when an easier, bustier-broad threw herself at him. He was always quick to politely, arrogantly decline.

Draco's taste in women had evolved drastically over the years. Women became woman, a lesser known product of its plural self. Quantity became valueless, where as quality held a higher price tag. However, his idea Witch was nothing more than a taboo obsession. No other woman dead or alive could ever provoke such a strong desire or passion inside of him.

It wasn't like his Muggle-born damsel to dress provocatively, or swoon over tons of guys like most girls her age. Instead, she was shy and meek in that aspect. After all, she dominated a room with her cleverness, capturing every intelligent bloke's eye within a half mile radius. That's why he loved her. She was so much more than a pretty face with innocent brown speckled eyes that were so naïve sometimes, despite their premature wisdom. She was intelligent, and ambitious, regardless of her inadequacy in prominent society, and as far as her beauty, well it spoke volumes despite her obliviousness to the fact.

And despite the cold harsh reality of his feelings, it wasn't as if he just woke up one day and decided to fall in love with her, the annoying-know-it-all-bookworm, or even that he came to pity her and her unclean race. Loving Granger, _Hermione _Granger, became as simple as going to classes in the morning or dining in the Great Hall. It also became a pivotal part of his time spent at Hogwarts, which was time invested in ridiculing her at every turn and chance he got.

In light of this revelation, Draco knew his confession was as hopeful as a flightless bird. He could love her and dream about her all he wanted, but the simple fact of the matter was, she'd never love him back. She loved Ronald freckled-faced Weasley, the exact polar opposite of everything she radiated. He knew this. He had long accepted this; however, it didn't make the blade of jealously any less sharp. It wasn't as if he was asking for her to love him back; that would be like asking a lamb to forgive the lion for making it its prey. He just wanted his struggle to be known, that long fitted battle of his heart and his mind; but, she couldn't even give him that! While paying a blind respect to his inner turmoil, he couldn't exactly deny her, her apprehension, for not even he knew which of the two organs was the Brave Dragon and which other was the sadistic conniving Snake. He commended her for her hesitation. After all, maybe her heart was left safer in a state of disarray.

With those perplexing thoughts in mind, he still couldn't help but love her, and at the exact same time feel the dire need to push her away, for her safety- and for his peace of mind. If it didn't make sense in his own brain, he couldn't expect it to make sense in hers. Moreover, what's the point in kissing if you disbelieve in the gravity that forced you there? It's like praying to God every night, and waking up and praising the devil.

_Hermione Granger–Gryffindor Goddess–Muggle-born Muse_; her, believing in his love and betting on it with her life was the closest thing to Eden. Too bad he'd never get to witness the realization light up in her eyes like a million parading wands held up in unison, illuminating the night's sky; in turn, brightening his dark, solitary little world.

Wondering if he should stay inside the sanctuary of the room, _their_ supposed-to-be room, or return to his and his family's shared quarters along with the Parkinson's, Draco decided that staying alone, was his sanest bet right now. Besides, he was in no mood to listen to his father's ridiculous rants or have his mother swoon over him in worry, not to mention Pansy. He would have to barricade himself inside a dusty broom closet in order to keep a safe distance away from her. She was the most persistent Witch he had ever known, and it was really starting to wear on his already tattered nerves. Thankfully, she hadn't asked anything about the Blood Bonding, although he was positive she had no doubt heard.

Draco shifted in the large oversized chair in front of the faintly lit fireplace as he recalled the exact moment he had been paired off with the Muggle-born Witch, for the Order's Blood Bonding Ritual.

Kingsley had announced his name much like a death summons, and while Draco's facial expression left many to question whether or not he was actually listening, he did in fact hear his name being called. Little did the Witches and Wizards around him know that the faint pulse of his heart had actually stopped beating. A swell of fear mixed with disbelief had actually risen in the pit of his gut upon the pin prickling realization. He half expected to hear one of the Weasley brothers name's to be called. With as many of them as there were, one of them was bound to attract her Magic, or so he thought.

Draco recalled how his father had stiffened in the chair next to him just before his mother's shrill cry of pardon rang out. He, however, remained still, his lips pursed into silence. At the time, he considered the arrangement to be incriminating. They were suggesting- no forcing him to meddle with his drug. He had considered himself to be a recovering addict. For so long he had battled with the knowledge that she was this illegal being, only to him she was a substance, an intoxicating deadly narcotic. His status in life was the only thing that kept his urges at bay. Back then he couldn't be caught dead mingling with the likes of someone like her, but now he was in a room full of enablers; Draco supposed it was the very opposite of an intervention if he ever had seen one. His resistance faltered just before splintering, only to snap in half a few moments later like a defective wand.

By the look on her face as he passed by her on the way out, he could tell that she was mortified. All her little Muggle-born dreams had come crashing down on her like a rain of falling china, leaving her to pick up the pieces after the chaos had subsided. Her brown crystal eyes couldn't appreciate it yet, but her conflict had always been his struggle.

While at first, Draco's mother and father had been repulsed by the idea of him sharing a bed with a Muggle-born, they had stayed surprisingly mum on the topic. Perhaps, they couldn't find it in themselves to argue with such promising results. In the wake of his and the Muggle-born's blood offering, the Order had bested the better half of thirty to forty Death Eaters in the early hours of one single morning. That was far more than they had warded off in an entire month.

The pull that he and the Muggle-born Witch had on one another was undeniable. However, their magic did not prevail without its consequence, meaning her straining body, as well as his wearing heart. The connection Draco had formed with her had heightened his sense of Occlumency to the point where he could hear almost all of her unguarded thoughts.

Before his time at Grimmauld Place, Draco had heard of Blood Bonding being brought up in conversation as nothing more than mindless chatter. After all, it was an illegal practice, one that had claimed lives and enabled destruction; it was a blatant display of misusing Magic.

While to many it was considered a form of Dark Magic, its offenders were rare. It was decidedly a ritual in the sense that it requires a few key elements. A Pureblood and Muggle-born whose wands attract is the main ingredient, however, it is a rare and pivotal point. Without that connection a bond cannot be formed.

Why the wands choose to attract remained a mystery to him, but when they do, and blood is shared, a euphoric state of Magic is reached, one that fills the room, washing over into every open crevice until it subsides; which is why others are able to benefit from the act, but that was basically all he knew.

Snape had been meaning to talk with him about it, but something always came up that demanded his attention. There was so much he wanted to ask his Godfather, but he supposed that would have to wait. So for now, he felt like a blind man being forced to search for buried treasure; how dangerously exciting that could turn out to be.

Draco stared into the fireplace as he leaned against one of the armrests of the chair, the fingers of his left hand strummed mindlessly in almost an agitated manner against the velvety fabric. He watched how hypnotizing the ashy embers of the fire rose and fell like Dragon's breath. Just when he considered going to bed, he felt a familiar presence standing outside the closed door. Something beneath his ribcage fell as he listened to the anguished thoughts of someone- of _her_. The turbulent thoughts poured from Granger's mind without reservation, seeping through the slim crack beneath the door, where they made their way over to him like a slithering snake. She was hesitating; her fingers were betraying her no matter how fervently she willed them to release the knob. She was afraid to see him. In fact, she didn't want to see him.

As soon as the door creaked open, Draco placed a quick Disillusionment Charm over himself, and shifted stealthily into a quiet corner. He watched, as the person who had been invading his thoughts, walked out of his mind and into the room. First she was nothing more than a darkened silhouette, but as she neared the bed, the dim candlelight flickered across her soft features, saturating her skin in a heavenly glow. Hermione's thoughts were a jumbled mess as she started undressing in front of him without realizing there was someone else in the room with her. Once she had stripped down to a black undershirt and lacy green knickers she climbed into the enormous bed in the far corner of the room, the one they had shared the previous night.

_'How appropriate!'_ he smirked to himself, his little Gryffindor lioness was showing a little Slytherin pride.

When Draco was done admiring her choice of apparel, he tried paying closer attention to her thoughts. She was restless, he could tell. Her thoughts and feelings were loud as they swirled and collided together, causing them to be incoherent. He wondered if she was still fuming about him.

In another quick moment, Hermione had yanked the sheets from off of herself with an unexpected, "Ugh! He's such an arse!" and jumped out of the bed.

Draco listened closely as her mind was working fast. He watched as she pulled a piece of parchment, and a golden necklace out of her purple beaded-bag. He continued to watch as she angrily pointed her wand at the trinket, and tapped it with determined precision. Draco looked through squinted eyes, but before realization occurred, she had vanished.

"Fuck!" Draco whispered to himself. That necklace, that shiny gold hourglass in her hand had been a time turner! She had gone back in time, and Draco's best guess became a quick bolt for the pensieve.

Without thinking twice, he dunked his head into the still waters of his past, searching desperately for the memory he guessed that she might have chosen to question most. Weaving in and out of old memories, Draco found the one that probably stood out to her the most; the one she would have the hardest time to understand-, to believe, for what it truly was.

_It was the night of the Yule Ball, and he had just watched her cry her eyes out on the foot of the Grand Staircase. _His sight, which only went as far as his immobile body would allow, was as useless as a passenger driver. He just prayed to Salazar she didn't go looking for him, because not even he knew how his prejudice fourth year self might react.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you so much for returning to the Smuttress Lair to continue reading our little story! We APPRECIATE and LOVE all of the wonderful reviews and PM's, as well as, the many alerts and favorites we've received! We can't express how much your encouragement has meant to us! You're all so amazing! PLEASE, pat yourself on the back for your awesomeness! ;)

Hope you liked getting to see things from Draco's perspective.

Cross your fingers with us that the next chapter will be up soon.

***Added on 9/19/11** - Hope adding in the "IMPORTANT" note underneath the A/N has helped you understand this chapter a bit better. Hope no one is still confused! If so, feel free to PM and I'll be glad to try and help out. :D Thanks again to **ALL** of our lovely followers, you're all amazing!... I'd like to take the time to name just a few of our amazing readers!... **, DZAuthor AKA DZMom, Very Halogen, For-the-Lolz, triinmic **... You all know why you're awesome!*


	6. Collision

Welcome back all of our patient Smuttresses! Sorry it's taken so long for an update, but from now on, expect updates more frequently! YAY! :)

(I know in the books it's stated that when you look into a memory that is held inside of a Pensieve you will be seeing everything from a 3rd person perspective; however, in THIS STORY because it's Draco looking into his own memories we will be seeing them from a first person perspective. Everything will play out as it originally happened from Draco's view and the reader will also be able to hear the thoughts of both the past AND the present Draco at times. With that being said, when he goes into the memory, Draco is able to see everything as if he's just a spirit/ghost residing in his fourth-year-self's body. He cannot do anything to change or alter the memory. He is merely a passenger who has a free ride to see all the happenings unfold around the driver. Again, Driver = Fourth Year Draco….Passenger = Present Day Draco! :D … We're really sorry about the confusion in the last chapter, and we hope this A/N will help you to better understand this chapter as you read it. Enjoy!)

* * *

><p>Chapter 6:<p>

Collision

_._

(Present day Draco's point of view as he is submerged into the pensieve in _their_ room at 12 Grimmauld Place, viewing his past fourth-year-self's actions in a 1st person perspective during the Yule Ball at Hogwarts.)

_._

It took Draco a good twenty minutes before he realized that diving head first into the pensive had done him no good. If the Muggle-born witch really had gone back in time, he wouldn't be finding her here, at least not this way. How he had come to the conclusion that this would somehow work escaped his mind at the moment. He must have had an impulsive sense of hope. He had seemingly forgotten that the memory he was currently treading in was safely swimming around in a protected rune basin.

Draco was currently reliving a scene in time he remembered unmistakable well.

_It was the night of the Yule ball, and the party was quickly turning to a close. He, Pansy, and a few other '_quality'_ students were about to head back down to the Slytherin Dungeons when a flash of sleek brown tresses caught his eye. Draco noticed how stunning she looked as she stormed off with the agitated looking Weasley._

He was drawn to her then as much as he was now, he realized.

_His past person excused himself from his Slytherin entourage and made his way over toward her through a crowd of anxious, lesser pupils._

Draco smiled inwardly, remembering how agitated he had been at the thought of one of the other Houses accidentally brushing up against him and their unworthiness mistakenly touching his superior self.

_"Watch where you're going!" Draco's mobile body __hissed at a few passing first years. Once he had made it to the clearing of the outside hall, his eyes were once again rewarded with a sign of watering brown orbs and a __swish of periwinkle robes. The Muggle-born Witch was on her heel again, this time telling off a bewildered looking Weasley and Potter._

_"RON, you spoiled EVERYTHING!" The young witch cried, twisting on her heels, and falling gracefully onto the stone steps. Draco stepped into the shadows and watched as the young witch's tears fell like rain on the stone surface below. His past self continued to watch her as she unclasped her heels, pulling them from off of her delicate feet. The Snake had wanted to hiss_ _his cruel invectives and sneering insults at the Mudblood as he watched her cry, but his bitter words chipped off at the tip of his tongue. He was normally the reason for her tears, but she was already crying, and for the first time ___he realized, that if truth be told, he didn't like it; not one bit. __

When it came time and Draco knew that he would be leaving her to cry alone in the dark, he silently cursed himself. He should have been there, even if only in silence. Sometimes, quiet company is the only comfort heartache needs.

A few unimportant scenes later, and he was in his old dormitory again. Draco knew that at this point he should probably just withdrawal himself from the pensive. The future Hermione wasn't here. In fact, he had no idea where she had gone off to.

_"Draacoo." The Slytherin Prince heard a young witch purr. _

Shit, that's right. Tonight was the night he and Pansy first….

_Draco's mobile body turned to see Pansy's devious dark eyes staring up at him. Draco glared down at her with impromptu irritation._

He faintly recalled how a slight pinch in his heart had betrayed his body the moment he leaned in to brush her dark locks out of her pale face. He had known he didn't love her. He had never loved her, and yet he had chosen to give himself to her that night.

_Even as he kissed her, his thoughts were elsewhere, immersed somewhere between chocolate brown eyes and ivory skin dusted with just the faintest hint of freckles._

_"Draco." Pansy whispered between pants, breaking his harsh kiss._

_"Stop talking." Draco breathed, leaning in to capture her lips once again. Her nasally voice was really starting to get to him._

_"Wait." She pleaded through dark wanting eyes._

_Draco stopped his movements, and gave her an impatient look._

_"Do you love me?" The young witch asked optimistically, thinking she already knew the answer._

_"What kind of question is that?" Draco asked irritably, shifting th__r__ough his impatience._

_"An important one!" She wined, pulling playfully on the front of his dark dress robes. __Draco inwardly groaned at her persistence._

_"Love is for the poor." _He heard himself remind her._ "Besides, we've been predestined since birth. We don't need love." _

_The Witch standing before Draco cast him, her most mischievous Slytherin grin. He didn't know which was more disturbing, the fact that she was smiling, or the fact that she believed him. _

_Either way, she was dense._

_"Do you love anyone else?" she teased through her pug smile, again thinking that she already knew the answer. _

_"I'm incapable of love," he lied. Draco's heart had once again twitched, this time, upon response to one of the pug's endless questions._

_"Do you _desire_… anyone else?" again, her voice was hopeful, yet her question was laced with worry._

_"Are we going to get on with this or what?" Draco asked, dodging her question. Unfortunately, the witch was on to something._

_Pansy's eyes glistened with a thin layer of wet tears._

_"Well, answer the question!" She demanded, her playful nature turning severe._

_"Like who? Who else should I desire?" Draco dared to ask her._

_"That Gryffindor Mudblood perhaps?" Pansy spat._

_Draco said nothing, he merely continued to stare down at her with a harsh look in his cold grey eyes._

_"Jealous are we?" Draco hissed, taking a step back from her. "Honestly Pansy, such thoughts should be beneath you."_

_In another quick moment, Draco had insulted her to the point of her leaving the room. It was a pointless gesture, because in the end she always came right back. _

The Dragon supposed his past self just couldn't stand hearing the truth. The Snake was in love with a Mudblood, and somewhere deep down, his coldhearted Slytherin Princess was finding out the truth.

Just when the future Draco was about to clear his mind and resurface from the pensive, something he didn't quite remember, happened.

_The door to his room burst open. Hermione Granger had just strolled into his bedchambers!_

Draco emerged from the pensive with a trembling splash. He didn't know how, but something else was going on in that pensive that he had no recollection of.

A few moments later he was crouching on the floor, now back in their room at Grimmauld Place, clutching his head in his hands. His memory was being rewritten-, no interwoven.

Flashes of new and old memories swirled and collided in a heated battle, like the clash of Day and Night, trying fervently to stake their claim on the sky above.

He could see Hermione's face as clearly as Pansy's. Two witches, two experiences, one night; yet, all happening at the exact same time.

The pensieve, that Draco had slipped his original memory into the previous night was kept it intact, however, it was being changed, altered; tweaked. The only reason Draco knew the memory was being tampered with, was because the Rune Basin kept it safely stored in its shallow depths; inevitably keeping all events completely unharmed by the magic of the Time Turner. The still floating memory of that night with Pansy was detained in his mind by the magic of the pensieve, and the new memories that were being created with Hermione began filing into his brain much of the same, as if they had both occurred simultaneously. So for now, his two recollections were colliding into a blood curdling headache.

When Draco gathered enough strength to pull himself off of the dusty floor, he turned to see the shocked face of a disheveled, scarcely clad Gryffindor Witch back in the room.

"What in the Hell did you think you were doing?" Draco yelled, his pale face burning with anger. "Do you know what you've done?"

Hermione tried to catch her balance, despite the fact that she was currently cowering away from him.

"What did you expect to find by going back there?" Draco demanded, all too confused by her motives. He honestly didn't know what kind of answer he expected from her.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked innocently, although the telltale signs of Hermione Granger lying was evident in the way she nibbled away at her bottom lip.

"Don't play coy with me, Granger. It wasn't just _your_ memory that you altered that night!" Draco declared; gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling it down to reveal a scar made from the incision of _her_ teeth marks.

He not only had the memory of the action, and the pain that ensued; but Draco had also felt the tearing of his flesh as the new memory had formed just minutes ago. Although, it was clear to see now, that the mark on his neck was nothing but a mere scar.

_'Oh no!'_ Her anxiety, unbeknownst to herself, trickled into his mind.

Draco suddenly backed away from her and started to pace the short distance between her and the bed.

The bizarre magic of this twisted fate didn't keep the pain of one's flesh intact, let alone a heart and mind whole, as it spun webs of confusion and alternate endings of its own. The combination of such Magic could be considered dangerous in the wrong hands, Dark even.

"How did you get in here? I was alone." Hermione changed the subject. _'How much of the future had really been changed?'_ he heard her question silently to herself.

He stopped his pacing and stood a good meter or so away from her, deciding eye contact was the only way to get a straight answer from his Muggle-born Muse.

"Just that night." Draco stated, answering her despite her indirect question. "But don't worry; it's only intensified my feelings for you by tenfold!" He could feel his irritation getting the better of him.

_'Wait. Did he just read my mind?_' He heard her frantic train of thought.

Draco couldn't believe he had to explain his actions to the _brightest _witch of his era, "Legilimency." He rolled his eyes at the guilt-ridden witch before him. "You're easy to read when you're upset." He almost scoffed.

"Oh, right… I'm sorry." Hermione whispered; her worry evident in her tone.

"You wouldn't have to apologize if I didn't know." Draco stated, taking a few steps toward her. "The only reason I know something has been altered, is because my real memory of that night is swimming around in that damn pensieve!" He pointed a pale finger in the direction of the blasted basin for emphasis.

Draco's heart sank a little as he saw Hermione's eyes welled up with tears.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever understand you." Draco whispered, his confusion releasing itself from his body through an almost nervous laugh. "You say you don't believe me-, that you don't want to believe me, and yet you go back in time to shag my virginal self's vulnerable brains out."

Hermione stepped further away from him, stumbling slightly, until her back was flat up against the stone wall.

"And you say my games are cruel." Draco hissed, standing just inches from her. "Well, Granger, as much as I'd like to thank you for making my younger self's dream come true, it's decision time. I can't go around with two memories of that night swimming around in my head."

He could see the confusion etching itself into the lines of her face. "Go ahead." Draco demanded, gripping Hermione's hand as he pointed the tip of her wand to his own temple. "Since you want to toil with the past, you can decide my fate!"

Draco's face held no sign of emotion, a blank mask, as his silvery greys pierced through her warm pools of swirling honey.

In those last few seconds he watched as her expression transformed before his very eyes, confusion was replaced by understanding. The comprehension of what he was telling her to do clicked on like a light switch in her brain.

If he knew his Muggle-born Witch at all, she'd do the only logical thing a true Gryffindor would-, could do; the honorable thing. The only solitary idea Hermione was ever able to grasp in that oversized brain of hers was logic, so Draco knew she'd do the only rational thing she could think of; which was, in no uncertain terms, the only thing Miss–Know-It-All–Bookworm–Granger was capable of. The only attributes she possessed fell in the lines of: good, noble, valiant; which always meant doing the _right_ thing in the end.

Although Draco didn't let any of his true feelings slip out at that moment, he was regretfully saying goodbye to the one and only genuinely pleasant memory of his youth, one that would soon be abolished, wiped clean from his mind, and erased from his heart, as if it never even existed.

Closing his eyes, the Brave Dragon mentally prepared himself for the departure of the images of Hermione Granger in his arms. In those last seconds he clung fast to the memory of them and that solitary night. With a whisper of words-, plea, trapped in his throat, Draco heard her breath of finality as she cast the very spell that would shatter the memory of their _'first'_ time, which could have only been described as perfect, if it weren't for the fact that he wouldn't be remembering any of it.

"Obliviate."

* * *

><p>AN: (Using the time turner only changed the events of that one night in Draco's room …no butterfly effect.)

Hope you don't hate us too much for making you all wait for the final results of Hermione's 'Obliviate'! Review and let us know what you thought of this chapter AND what your hopes are for the next one. It's already written (YAY!) and in the process of being edited so it can look nice and polished for you lovely readers! So, it should be posted within the next couple of days… Reviews = Inspiration to post! (Just Sayin'!) Lol! ;D

PS: _Anonymous Reviews Allowed! :D_


	7. Obliviate!

IT'S FINALLY HERE! ! ! ! NOW, WITHOUT ANY FURTHER ADO, WE PRESENT TO YOU THE LONG AWAITED _'OBLIVIATE'_! ! !

(Please don't be mad at us if you're unhappy with _her_ decision!)

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chatper 7:<span>**

"Obliviate!"

.

(Hermione's POV)

.

"And you say my games are cruel." Draco hissed, standing just inches from her. "Well, Granger, as much as I'd like to thank you for making my younger self's dream come true, it's decision time. I can't go around with two memories of that night swimming around in my head."

Hermione swallowed hard, unsure of what he was asking her to do. "Go ahead." He seethed, gripping her wand hand and pressing it to his head. "Since you want to toil with the past, you can decide my fate!"

Hermione blinked incoherently. He wanted her to choose which memory to keep. Without a second's more consideration she pointed the tip of her wand to his temple and whispered. "_Obliviate_"

**-xOoOxXxOoOx-**

A beam of light immediately emitted from the tip of her wand, striking the blonde haired boy standing before her with a resonating force.

Hermione's vision began fading in and out as Draco's pending memories flashed before her eyes. She could feel herself rewinding time to forever alter his fate, and as if she were watching an age old movie, she could see with distinct awareness, the very memory that she was threatening to take. It was wrong, and she knew it, but as soon as she recited that well practiced spell, his fate was irreversibly sealed.

With a twinge of guilt, and teaspoon of remorse, Draco's night with Pansy crumbled into a million different pieces. It cracked at the base of their kiss like a stained glass window, and then shattered as he went to remove the young Slytherin girl's clothes. Draco's once, past memory, was now officially a moment in time that never occurred. Reality crashed back down onto them along with a rain of new emotions. As soon as Hermione's wand fell at her side, she knew she had made a selfish decision. It was all because she had wanted to go back in time to prove that his love was nothing more than a false-silly-charade, only, come to find out, it wasn't. Somewhere along the line she lost her focus, forgetting her will as well as her reasons. In her sudden loss of hindsight she made a very fearful discovery. Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, leader of the Muggle haters, destroyer of everything she believed in, was in love her. It was a harrowing, mind-blowing, fearful fact.

With those agonizing thoughts in mind, and with the feeling of the Magic's affect wearing off, Hermione's eyes shot open. Just as she was about to open her mouth to beg for some form of forgiveness she felt Draco's hands come into contact with her warm, tearstained skin. He cupped her face into a hug between his palms as he brought her lips up to meet his into what promised to be a soothing, everlasting pardon of a kiss. However, when her lips broke apart from his in search of fresh air, she forgot his unspoken resolve. Through an endless stream of apologies laced with turbulent regret, which readied to spew forth from her trembling lips, Hermione sputtered the veracities of what she had just willed him to forget.

"I-I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I just went back for answers," she stuttered, looking away from the blazing cerulean shards of his narrowed eyes. Her countless tears crashed into his palms, running down his wrists and along the length of his arms. "But everything just happened so fast, and before I knew it, I-I was in his- _your_ arms… and I could have stopped it…" She rambled on frantically, trying to rationalize her actions. "I _should_ have stopped it!" She corrected. "But I didn't… and now… and now I can't take it back" She shook her head as her words finished tumbling out.

Hermione dared a look up at him through her overflowing brown orbs, and in that moment she was more surprised by what she didn't find there. His normally cold, pale expression was warmer than she expected. He seemed at ease as he stared down at her, still caressing her face with his calming touch, while a blend of soothing, gentle, and thoughtful emotions swirled in the depths of his brilliant silvers. The look in his eyes almost made her feel as if she _could be_ exonerated for her reckless inflections. _Almost_.

"I'm sorry, I had no right." Hermione whispered brokenly, her unrelenting tears proceeded to fall as she dared to steal another look up at him through her tear-sodden lashes.

"It's okay." He whispered, tucking a loose russet curl behind her right ear.

'_But it wasn't, it isn't okay,' _she thought, with a painful swell of her throat. She had tainted, no…_stolen _a vital piece of his history, one that she could never give back! And for what? He knew full well that she didn't love him.

"I know." He quieted her thoughts. Hermione looked up at him with a guilty expression. '_What does he know?'_ She wondered curiously, she had just bloody made him forget everything about that night with Pansy.

"I know that you think too loud when you're upset," Draco smiled into her hairline, while taking the hourglass necklace from her shaking hand and planting a gentle kiss just above her forehead.

Damn that Aunt of his…Bellatrix Lestrange. Just thinking about that vile, deranged wench caused knots to form in the pit of her stomach. Damn that Witch to bloody hell and back for teaching him the skills of Legilimency and Occlumency. At the moment, Hermione fervently wished that she too were an equally skilled Occlumens.

Hermione tried swallowing the lump in her throat, remembering the guilt trodden consequences of her outlandish actions. "_Pansy_-,"

"Don't ruin this moment with a filthy word like that." Draco interrupted her, pressing a single tearstained finger to her lips, quieting her confessions.

"But-,"

"Listen," Draco whispered, staring as far into her brown speckled eyes as he could. "I don't care about what _should_ have happened that night, or what was _supposed_ to have happened! The fact of the matter is, nothing you could have taken from me, could ever replace what you've actually given me."

"How could you possibly know that if you can't remember?" Hermione begged the question through her tears.

"I know enough to tell you with complete confidence, that if it hadn't been you that night– the one you can't seem to get out of your mind, then it would have been _her_." Draco replied, his tone citing fact, with a slightly noticeable distaste for the last word.

Hermione closed her eyes tight, warding off her tears. So this Draco knew that she went back in time, back to that _specific_ moment in time. He was aware that the girl that came to him during his fourth year and shagged his brains out was the future Hermione, the very one standing in front of him now; something he probably couldn't have wrapped his mind around all those years ago. However, the memory of his first time with Pansy was gone, shattered, altered; stolen. To him, his first time with Pansy was nothing more than a fact-less thought, a mindless 'what if'.

"Let it go." He whispered his encouragement through a smile, one Hermione was sure she'd never seen before.

Hermione nodded her head in affirmation as the tears continuously leaked from her eyes. The difference between hearing the truth and knowing the truth was a vast comparison. In his case, he merely knew a version of the truth, and it would probably break his heart to hear it in volumes, only to shatter.

Looking through blurry eyes, she saw a look of refinement spread through his porcelain features, and with a slight tilt of his head, his mouth once again found hers. After a few moments of shameless rebuttal, his kisses became a symbol of forgotten regret and marred history, her tears a pool of redemption.

Pulling her further into him, Draco threatened to meld their bodies into one. His arms were wrapped so tightly around her, she feared the thought of him letting go, and was afraid that if he actually did, her limbs would surly fail her.

Hermione needed him in that moment, much like a life form needs warmth and oxygen to sustain primordial life.

She still could not figure out why she chose to erase his old memory. She didn't love him… she wouldn't- _couldn't_ love him. Kisses and a mess of tangled limbs didn't signify love. _This-,_ this was something else; desire, frenzy, passion, obsession. It was everything, every feeling, but love.

Her sudden thoughts filtered from her brain and into his mind causing a choked off moan- or was it a whimper to escape from the "Pureblood Prince" himself.

Draco deepened their kiss, igniting the fire in her gut, forcing it to rise to the apex of her heart. Nothing seemed to make sense. Her guilt-ridden mind was blurring. The only thing her body was capable of comprehending as he held her, was desire, fueled by the trick of heat emitting from their union; or, perhaps, it was the residual effect of the bond.

When she felt as if she were slowly starting to lose herself in him, her actions became more rushed. She pulled and tugged at his body, urging him closer, as if there was room left between them needing to be filled. However, they were already chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, with not a breath of air left to divide their bodies, and yet, despite this truth, he still seemed light-years away. While Hermione sucked on the swell of his bottom lip, she became aware of the fact that she needed him closer, his tongue delving deeper, strong arms holding her tighter and wanton hands griping her rougher.

Draco moaned into her mouth as her hands slid beneath the fabric of his shirt. Her blood began to boil upon their skin-to-skin contact. She needed him; she craved him. Her mouth was practically watering, and as if she lacked any restraint whatsoever, her teeth met his flesh and she bit down on him as if he were a tasty score of meat.

Draco stilled and pulled away from her, bewildered. Hermione shook her head to clear her mind, pressing her fingers to her lips in shame. She had just bit him, why did she keep biting him?

After a moment apart, Draco continued to stare after her in worry.

"Are you okay?" he questioned; instinctively licking and nursing the puncture wound on his lip with the tip of his tongue.

They had bitten each other out of passion, out of duty and desire, but this time was different. The sheer need to sink her teeth into him could only be described as a carnal craving, one that bordered the lines of a frenzied blood lust.

"I'm-I'm sorry…I…I don't know what came over me," she fumbled over her words.

"It's okay," the blonde boy smirked, "I like it when you're rough." he smiled at her encouragingly. "It's the lack of control I'm concerned about." He gently kissed her on the forehead before continuing. "But, don't worry; we'll visit Snape in the morning. I'm sure he can tell us what's going on." He reassured her, as he absentmindedly rubbed light circles, soothingly, along the flushed heat of her back.

Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

Yes, that's what they needed. _Answers_.

She felt her eyes automatically flutter closed on their own accord as he planted a lingering kiss on her forehead, as if he were savoring the sweetness of such simple contact.

"Let's get you to bed." He murmured against her temple, and with a slight tug of her wrist, he urged her to follow him.

Hermione made a few mental notes as Draco gently pulled her over to the bed, strong hand entwined with hers. This Draco was different than the one she just left, the one she just altered, although they were one in the same. This Draco was careful, sweet, yet strong. He warranted respect instead of demanding it. This Draco was in control of his emotions; but, despite the fact that he possessed a great deal of strength and fortitude, it was she who wielded his power.

As they settled into the large bed, Malfoy summoned the coverlet with a bit of wandless Magic, from where it lay tossed aside in a heap of ruffled fabric at their feet. He pulled it up around their bodies, incasing them in its warmth.

Hermione may not have wanted to believe it, but the Snake that had been her unwavering tormentor throughout the years, her reoccurring nightmare – in the realms of sleep or otherwise, had changed in ways she never would have thought possible, maybe even evolved in some aspect.

Hermione reluctantly looked over to marvel at the man Draco had become, only to see him lying there smiling down at her. A smile was a rarity for him, for any Malfoy; but, beyond that, this one met his cerulean-laced greys. _'Another real smile, _not_ a smirk.'_ She contemplated silently.

Hermione laid there, eyes transfixed, determined to learn ever feature – every subtle change from the Malfoy he once was. He seemed to be regarding her with much of the same intensity in response. Her eyes settled on the curtain of fine hair that fell and rested on the satin pillow in a splay of platinum feathers. With an uncertain, slightly shaky hand, Hermione threaded her fingers through the delicate strands of his hair before quickly realizing her actions, and withdrawing her limb, where it retreated to her side.

Without hesitation, he reached out and tucked a loose ringlet behind her ear before pulling her into his arms, drawing her tightly to his chest.

After a long night of forged realization and altered perceptions, Hermione felt relief in the fact that all Draco had in mind as he laid there holding her in his arms were sweet caresses and an assembly of cooing hushes.

She still felt wrong, dirty even. There was purpose, in the past being the past; and when she went back in time, she had consequently defied the laws of moral science and reason.

"What were you thinking?" Hermione asked into the crevice of his neck. She felt comforted in the fact that he was holding her instead of being angry with her for what she had done. "When I barged into the room like that." She clarified her question.

"Well, considering you were already on my mind, I thought I was dreaming." Draco chuckled, burying his head into her hair.

"And when you realized you weren't?" Hermione continued, not entirely sure why it was so important that she know.

"Well, my next thought was, _'where had your clothes gone?'_. Bloody hell, Granger, you were walking around in green and black knickers for Merlin's sake." Draco reminded her coolly.

Hermione smiled and began absentmindedly fingering the lace of her Slytherin-like undergarment.

She saw Draco peer down at her out of the corner of her eye, and she shifted as he noticed the claw marks on her right hip. His previous smile quickly faded into a frown.

"It's okay." she smiled weakly up at him.

Draco traced the cuts his nails had made with the tips of his fingers, and she shivered at the feel of his lingering caress.

Hermione couldn't believe how much he had really changed. She faintly remembered how the Draco of the past, the fourth year Slytherin, had recoiled when she went to touch his face, and as if the here-and-now-Draco could read her mind, he gently grabbed her hand, without hesitation, and firmly pressed it against his perfectly chiseled cheek.

His face was warm and inviting. She felt him embrace the contact of her skin as if it were a welcomed means of nourishment.

"You need sleep." Draco cooed, turning his face to kiss the palm of her hand.

She had wanted to say this doesn't change anything, that she was still a Lion, and he was still a Snake; however, he had already heard her before she could think to open her mouth.

"I know." he whispered, kissing both of her eyes closed, tempting her to sleep. It was a battle easily won.

It didn't take long for Hermione to find peace in his arms as she drifted off into what could only promise to be a dreamless slumber, but before she managed to make it all the way there, she heard him whisper one last sentiment into her ear.

"I know that you don't want to love me," he breathed, pausing momentarily to brush her hair out of her face, before continuing with his assertion. "And that if you ever did, it would make a lifetime of respite seem meaningless, but life is about letting go." His voice trailed off into an inaudible whisper.

Hermione's breathing began to deepen as she neared the crest of the dream world; his softly spoken words had been taken for a lullaby.

"The Sorting Hat placed me in Salazar's House for a reason, and while I'll always be a Slytherin at heart, I no longer take pride in being a Snake." His lulled claim was one that she would no doubt sleep on, and dream about, probably in riddle form, only then, to be deciphered at dawn with the rising of the sun, when the images of subconscious thoughts are freshest in one's mind.

Something Malfoy had said during the aftermath of viewing his confessional memories came back to her in that moment. _"I want you to think better of me, because I'd rather die now than have you shed another tear at my expense."_

Did he really want to change, to prove himself, for a lack of a better word, _worthy?_

"I've never been one to beg," He concluded with a defeated exhale, squeezing her in his arms a bit tighter. "So just please… Let go…" and with a soft press of lips to her temple, the churning wheels in her mind slowed, and she submitted to his words, in some aspect; she let go and allowed the allure of sleep to wash over her.

Without surprise, Hermione was correct in her assumption, as usual. She found that her dreams were filled with visions of a Snake coiling and writhing in pain, as it transformed into a fearsome Dragon.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Please try not to think too far into who has what memories, all will be revealed in later chapters.

At this point, all that you need to know is that Draco's only memory of what happened after the Yule Ball is the memory he now shares with Hermione. He can only see pieces of the 'what if memory' with Pansy, because of what Hermione has stored in her own mind.

SHE SAW THE MEMORY OF HIM AND PANSY WHEN SHE OBLIVIATED IT FROM HIS MIND. (He no longer has memories of that night with Pansy; he only sees flashes of that night through Hermione's thoughts, because of Legilimency.)

Because Hermione has chosen to erase Draco and Pansy's first night together after the Yule Ball celebration, something else was bound to change…. Which we'll find out in a later chapter. ;)

We just want to take a moment to thank all of you wonderful readers who've stuck with the story. As always, please review and let us know what you think and what you're silently hoping for.

AGAIN, REVIEWS = THE DESIRE TO WRITE! ;)


End file.
